#FEEN did this to me

[inuringly]

NGL if my art blog wasn’t “whatever I want” I’d prolly just make a grimleal trash heap sideblog mfsdlkfms

[yellourr]

Gave my instagram to this guy at work only to realize I ain’t really that interested (I stopped using instagram a year ago)

[ttsukiimi]

˗ˏˋOPEN ARMS! (AND LEGS) ´ˎ˗

୨୧⋆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ After your divorce, you’re devastated. Devastated enough to welcome the same man who hurt you with open arms. (And legs!)

୨୧⋆ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ Ex-husband!sukuna x fem!reader, smut (mdni), unprotected sx, lowk hate fckking, hair pulling, overstim, sukuna is feening, mention of slight toxic relationship, slight rough & mean!sukuna, light gaslighting, reader referred to as (baby, princess)

“I hate you,” you whimpered through gritted teeth, the absolutely pathetic noise that left you soon after betraying your previous words. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears, and your throat grew a lump you knew was too hard to swallow.

This was all so stupid—you were stupid for welcoming him back into your home.

You questioned your own moral, your self-respect; where did it all go? Maybe he had taken it with him. And with the way he had you acting such a fool, maybe it was right to assume that.

“Y’hate me, baby?” Sukuna mumbled, and you wanted to slap that stupidly hot smirk off his lips, but something in you also wanted to kiss it, caress his face and let him do as he pleased. But you didn’t.

“Inviting you here was a mistake,” you sighed, trying your best to ignore the way chills erupted on your body from just a touch of his hand. Sukuna stroked the supple skin of your cheek and let his thumb roam to your lip, pulling down and watching as the plumpness sprang back in place. His eyes bore into you as he stared down, a mischievous tilt to his head.

“If you think so, why don’t you kick me out?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—“

But Sukuna was faster. He had his lips plastered to yours before you could even react, holding your hips so softly in a way that wasn’t him, and that made you melt in his arms. Your knees buckled under the now tenfold weight pushing down on them and he chuckled, deep and taunting.

He pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips together. Somehow, he seemed more passionate with you than before.

Had he changed? Had he finally bettered himself? Your heart fluttered in your chest at the thought—albeit against your own will.

And maybe he had changed, but the way he handled you was still the same. All he seemed to want was to use you for his own satisfaction and pleasure.

Which was subsequently why he—seconds after consoling and convincing you that he loved you—had you sprawled out on your bed, stripped of any clothing.

“Wider, f’me, princess,” he ordered, palming himself through his sweats, and you’d be lying if you said that the way that he groped his cock through the material wasn’t captivating. Sukuna crawled onto the bed, making and claiming his rightful place between your legs.

“I missed you, y’know?” he asserted in your ear, cupping your cheeks together to force you to look at him. He let his free hand drift down to your chest, and fondled with your tit, admiring how his palms fit so perfectly around your mound. “Missed these pretty tits too.”

“‘Kuna,” you whined, arching up into his touch so quickly like the movement was ingrained in your brain. You’d been with him for so long, accommodated his every move, it felt wrong not to be with him.

Hence why, out of confusion for your own mental state, you hit him up. However, perhaps this was okay.

Sukuna between your legs, right where he always belonged. Stroking himself with such fervor that it seemed he had been thinking about you too. But he wouldn’t admit it, of course.

“Most of all,” he hummed, snaking his large hand down to your core, cupping your pussy. “Missed this filthy fucking cunt.”

It was all so lewd. His words, his touch, the way he glided the head up and down your sopping folds, coating his tip with your seemingly endless stream of dribbling slick.

"Gonna show you just how much I missed all of you."

And that was the problem. Sukuna wanted you, but not you. He had an obsession with this image of you he created in his head—this perfect wife—which was essentially you, but not.

You also found it hard to love a man that had an insane sex drive. Granted, the dick was heavenly, just not when you weren't in the mood. These little cracks between you drifted you both apart, and that led to the divorce.

With a swift movement, Sukuna had turned you around onto your stomach, propping you up on your knees. He inwardly cursed at how plump your body looked; and was immediately drawn in to smack the malleable flesh of your ass.

Hissing, you turned to glare at him, the complaint about to roll off your tongue caught in your throat as he thrusted in. Sukuna noticed this and rasped, voice so sexily low, and took a handful of your hair. "Shuts you up just like it always does, hm?"

"F-fuck you!" you replied, and one smart remark was all it took for him to have your head shoved into the pillows, rough hands gripping so harshly at your hips.

"'M already doing that, baby." As he pulled your head back by your hair, making sure your eyes held contact with his, sadistically finding satisfaction in the way tears welled in your waterline. Sukuna watched as each ram he drove into you caused your eyes to roll back—your mouth falling agape as soft little ah, ah, ah's fell from your lips.

The sight was unbearable to him, he had to see more, more of that already fucked-out expression taking place on your face. He found his rhythm quickening, the slaps of your bodies becoming more frequent, and your cries became louder.

Sukuna looked down at where you both connected, whistling and smirking to himself at the sight. "Always been so good at takin' dick."

"Mmf—it's easy cause y'r microscopic," you were quick to retort, smiling as you felt his grip on your hair and hips tighten, a little annoyed 'tsk' rolling from his tongue. But he was more than annoyed, he just played along with your little game.

Your cocky grin was wiped off of your face the moment you felt his tip repeatedly ram into your g-spot, stimulating you so much to the point it had you stuttering and your vision blurring. He was essentially taking his anger out on you and your poor pussy, fucking wildly into you like it'd be the first and last time he did so.

"I'm small, huh?" he murmured in your ear, breath fanning past your neck now, smiling against the skin of your shoulder. "I'm fucking small?"

He repeated his question again, though it didn't sound like a question initially, gripping your hair even more tighter.

You whimpered in response, shaking your head no, however, he wanted an answer. Though he knew you were in no state to talk.

"Yeah? Not so small when I'm ruining you." he licked a stripe up to your ear. "And not when I made you cum four times in a row, either, hm?”

[chrissturnsfav]

𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 | 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

you're at your boyfriend matt's house, trying to study for your finals tomorrow. however, matt has other plans—having not seen you in 5 days—and you can't help but let him distract you.

ᰔᩚ requested from @anonymous: just softdom!matt eating you out 🙁 (im extremely lonely)

ᰔᩚ smut, oral (fem receiving), soft!dom matt, bf!matt, use of pet names (baby, pretty girl), fluff

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,559

you had studied an immense amount for the past 2 weeks. you studied in between all of your classes, studied in the morning before you left for classes, studied while eating—anything you were doing you were studying as you did it.

you finally were at matt's house—after not seeing him in about 5 days, but of course you had to study as you were with him—no matter how much you missed him and his touch.

you are currently sat in matt's bed. your legs are clutched up to your chest, your psychology notebook sitting in your lap. you intently read over the notes over and over and over again. matt is laid lazily next to you, one of your hands are intertwined with his as he rubs small circles on your palm with his thumb.

matt had been feening and yearning for you for every second of those past 5 days, and now he was growing impatient. it had only been about a half hour since your arrival, but he hadn't had a taste of you for what felt like forever. his eyes were on the tv screen, but he wasn't paying attention to gravity falls—all he could think about was wanting to give you a break.

so, he turns his head to you, watching your eyes scanning over the notes in your filled up notebook and he sighs. you didn't even realize the deep breath leaving his mouth because of how focused you were.

"baby..." matt groans, his head laying against the headrest.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you move your gaze to meet his eyes. you look at him with a small smile, "yeah?"

"can't you just take a break for a little bit? i haven't seen you in so long..." matt says softly, a slight hint of lust in his eyes which you notice.

you bite the inside of your cheek. finals made you nervous every single year of college, and every year you would study for them like there was no tomorrow. it was bringing an immense feeling of exhaustion and stress on you, but you didn't care. all you cared about was making a good future for yourself.

you sigh, opening your mouth to respond to him, "i need to do good matt, especially in psychology...i need to have a good future. i'm doing this for the good of myself, but as soon as finals are over i'm all yours," you speak gently, reassuring matt, but it isn't enough.

matt frowns, groaning again slightly, "you've been doing this for the past 2 weeks baby, c'mon let me give you a break," he says, moving his hand that was intertwined with yours onto your knee.

you dart your eyes from his face to his hand on your knee, thinking about it. "i dunno matt..." you say reluctantly. "this is really important to me, y'know?" you say, looking back into his eyes with a soft expression.

matt nods understandingly, "i know. but you've had enough. at least for right now," he says, a smirk slowly growing on his lips and you think again, unsure of what to do.

of course, you miss him, but the voice in your head keeps yelling at you to push him away and keep studying—that this is all that matters right now, and once finals are over, you both can have all the fun you want.

you don't have enough time to respond, because he's slowly moving his body to hover over you, staring down at you and your doe eyes look back into his with slight unsureness.

matt moves a piece of hair falling over your face to the side before leaning next to your ear. "c'mon, take a break, lemme make you feel good," he whispers sensually, making you feel weak.

the voice in your head is now screaming at you to push him off, to keep studying—you need to ace this exam tomorrow.

but you ignore it.

matt's hands trail down to the waistband of your sweatpants, kneeling in between your legs as he tugs on the drawstring. his eyes move to look at yours with a smirk, to which you return slightly.

you sigh and move the notebook in your lap to the side, opening your legs slightly wider.

matt looks at you with a hint of shock in his expression, "oh, is mrs. straight a-student giving in to me? shocker," he chuckles out and you roll your eyes jokingly.

you watch him undo the tie you have the drawstring of your sweatpants in, sliding them off of your hips slowly.

he moves his head to fit between your legs, gripping your thighs gently as he begins to pepper small kisses on them. your eyes flutter closed, body tense with anticipation.

matt senses the tenseness in your frame and he smiles against your skin, looking at you. "relax, baby, gonna give you a real good break," he speaks gently as he draws small circles on your inner thigh.

you nod at his words, relaxing your body beneath him to which he chuckles at, his lips moving closer to your inner thigh. "that's my girl," he mutters.

matt begins to slowly slide your panties off of you, tossing them to the other side of the bed. he looks down at your glistening core, smirking at the sight as he pushes your knees wider gently.

"aw, that's cute," he jokes, looking at you and you giggle warmly. he licks his lips before moving his head back in between your thighs. he places a hand on your thigh wrapping your leg around his back and the other one sits on your knee.

your heart thumps with desire and anticipation excitedly. you watch matt lick a stripe through your warm folds and your body shivers at his actions. he smirks against your heat before speaking, "relaax baby, gonna make you feel real good, alright?" he says, looking up at you knowingly.

you nod, humming in response and relaxing your body against his bed. he moves his hand from your knee onto your bundle of nerves, his thumb rubbing circles gently, but quickly.

you let out a deep, soft moan, already beginning to fall apart and you only gasp louder when his tongue works against your wet pussy.

"mmm," matt hums into you, rubbing his thumb faster, "'s so good...always so good," he mutters before his tongue continues its actions.

you whine softly, head falling back against his pillow, but matt tuts and he moves his mouth off of you to look at you, "gotta look at me while i make you feel good, pretty girl."

you fix your gaze quickly, locking your eyes with his to which he smiles and nods, "good girl," he says softly before moving his lips back to your core. you moan softly as his actions quicken, his gaze never leaving your twisted face.

your hands move to tangle into his hair, eyes rolling back slightly at the pleasure. you moan deeply when matt suddenly inserts two fingers into your pussy, removing his thumb from your clit to replace it with his tongue.

his tongue swirls quick circles on your clit, fingers pumping in and out at a fast pace. he stares up at you in lust, watching your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open as the occasional moan leaves your lips.

"s-shit...matt...d-don't stop," you moan softly, hands pulling at his hair and he groans against you which sends vibration throughout your body and you whimper.

matt's tongue on your clit moves even quicker, fingers flicking inside of you hitting your g-spot and you moan deeply. "feel good, baby?" he asks against you sensually.

you nod eagerly, feeling a knot in your stomach begin to form which reminds you that you're going to cum soon. "y-yeah...fuck...o-oh, g-gonna cum!" you moan softly, loudly and matt smirks, his actions becoming impossibly faster.

"cum in my mouth, baby, can't wait to taste you..." he mumbles, anticipating your release.

your mouth falls fully open, vision blurry as you cum all over matt's lips, moaning loudly, "o-oh my god! y-yes...matt," you moan loudly, filling his room.

matt moans slightly at the taste of you, your cum filling his mouth. he watches as some of you drips onto his sheets, licking up every drop. he removes his fingers from inside of you, pulling his face up. he licks his lips, looking up at you with a smirk as he swallows.

he brings his two fingers covered in your cum up to your lips, his face inches away from yours as he hovers over you. "mmm, taste yourself, baby...taste so pretty."

you open your mouth slowly, eyes never leaving matt's and he gently puts his fingers in your mouth. you suck your remnants off his fingers, whining against them at the taste and he chuckles, "so sweet," he whispers.

matt connects your lips in a soft, gentle, loving kiss and you smile against his lips, kissing back passionately.

he pulls away and smiles at you warmly, kissing your cheek before crawling off you. he tosses your panties, sweatpants and notebook back to you before sitting back next to you.

"back to work, baby, gotta ace that final tomorrow, right?" he teases, smirking at you, watching as you're still trying to catch your breath.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i hope my matt girls loved this one! i'm actually really pleased with it hehe.

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Snow Bunny | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the bat boys enjoy their annual snowball fight, in which Azriel wins, he gets the best prize of all, a night alone with his mate.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, p in v penetration, nudity, violent snowball rock assault (rip cassian), and tooth rotting fluff.

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing smut, so go easy on me lol, was just in another feening-over-azriel mood and needed to write, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

It was a cold winter, though all of the winters in Night Court were cold. Compared to Illyrian winters, Azriel supposed that they weren’t too bad. Illyrian winters had everyone shivering and shaking and doing anything for the littlest bit of warmth. Night Court winters usually yielded a bit of snow, maybe a foot or two if the Mother was feeling generous, for the children, or in this case, grown Illyrian males, to play in.

The annual snowball fight began as usual, they built their snow forts, packed them densely, or at least Azriel always did, and went to work making snowballs.

He would admit that using his shadows to make snowballs for him did seem like cheating, but who is he to not use his resources?

Rhys and Cassian went head to head first, predictably, and after hurling snowballs densely packed at each other as hard as they could, their tanned skin was left tinted red and a few bruises. The killer blow was when Cassian hurled a final one at Rhys, and this snowball was packed full of ice in the center.

It knocked the High Lord straight out.

Cassian let out a whoop of victory, but a bit too early, as Azriel then launched a massive snowball with a rock in the center at him, payback, and a guarantee of victory apparently as Cassian then collapsed backward on the snow with a soft groan.

Both Nesta and Feyre came out, not too worried as they were very used to their mates’ shenanigans. Feyre helped drag Rhys into the house, while Nesta fought with Cassian, who was mumbling about how he was “perfectly fine”.

“Really…’m okay, jus’ a few more minutes..”

He mumbled, clearly out of it. Nesta grabbed his legs and began dragging him away.

“You are going inside. I am not letting you die because of a snowball fight of all things.”

Her stern tone rang out, dragging him into the house after Feyre managed to get Rhys inside. Azriel followed soon after.

*********************************************************

You went to the door to drag Azriel back inside but were instead met with the sight of him entering, and you ran smack into his chest. You shuddered slightly at how cold and wet he was. His lips were chapped, crusty, and dry. You pulled your tube of lip gloss out and applied a generous amount on his lips, before leaving a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m assuming you won?”

You asked in an amused tone, glancing over at Cassian and Rhys being dragged away by their mates. Azriel chuckled, the deep sound sending a thrill through your body, before replying with a little smirk.

“Yes, per usual.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Quit being a cocky bastard, and let’s go get you in a hot bath. You’re freezing.”

He gave a little huff of laughter at your quip, before following as his mate dragged him off to their shared bedroom. Your intentions were far from pure, and you wanted much more than a bath, but only if he was willing to provide that. He might be tired.

“Are you sure you want me to take a bath?”

He asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he pushed the door to your shared bedroom closed, locking it painfully slowly, ensuring that the noise would echo through her brain and rattle it.

He began slowly stalking towards you with a predatory, feline grace, his wings flaring behind him in what you could recognize as a symbol of both dominance and desire. Even his shadows seemed eager, slithering up your body as far as he allowed them, their cool touch both soothing your skin and causing goosebumps to rise.

“Maybe a bath isn’t so necessary.”

You said, your voice more feeble than you’d like it to be, swallowing as you sat on the edge of your large bed, with him moving to stand right in front of you and look down at you with nothing short of a lover’s gaze.

“Good. I love our annual snowball fights, but do you know what I love more..?”

He asked in his rich baritone voice, smiling slightly as he pushed you gently back onto the bed, settling over you as he let his hands roam your soft, warm body. His hands went from your thighs, back up to your hair and face, then back to your inner thigh as his leg nudged your knees to open.

As any sensible person would do, you spread your legs for him easily. You'd gotten to a point within the mating bond that submitting to him was as easy as breathing.

“..No, what?”

You asked, your voice wavering slightly as your cheeks flushed, watching him with wide eyes. The arousal in both of your scents could easily be detected. His hand stopped around the waistband of your pants, tugging them off, and the rest of your clothing was soon to go.

Eventually, his large hands began palming your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. He leaned down near your ear, prolonging his answer as long as possible to build your curiosity and the tension before he spoke.

“My mate.”

He answered simply, his hot breath fanning against your ear, before his mouth moved down to latch onto one of your pert nipples, alternating between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. The sheer dominance and possession in his statement made your desire pool as your heavy breathing turned to light mewls and moans, whining to him.

His mouth then switched from your right nipple to your left, continuing his sinful sucking, before separating with a little ‘pop’ as he smirked up at you.

His hand had trailed down to his leathers, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off, if only to give you a little taste of the eye candy he truly was beneath his clothes. One hand reached down to your panties, and ran a finger over them, nearly purring in delight.

“Already so wet? I must've put on quite a show tonight.”

He murmured against your chest as one of his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, before throwing them onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. His fingers slid through your wet folds, before beginning to playfully taunt your clit, rubbing just enough for some pleasure, but never enough for any real friction.

One of his fingers slid over to your slit, gathering all the slick that waited there for him, and he coated his fingers in it before slipping it in, easily going knuckle-deep.

“I’m gonna stretch you out, okay? Gonna get you ready for my cock.”

He said with a small smirk in a soft, almost whispered voice, that had deep currents of lust and desire running not far under it. Soon, one finger turned into two pumping in and out, curling into that delicious spot while you whined because of the stretch. The whines soon turned to moans and begging him for more.

“Az, need more..”

You begged, your hips already starting to buck on instinct and try to grind against his fingers.

“I’ll give you more in due time, darling.”

He replied simply. And then a third finger was slipped in, his thumb still running sinful circles and applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit. In no time you were already slipping so, so close to the edge, and he let you get there, rubbing faster and harder until you fell apart around his fingers with a cry.

His fingers continued working you, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible before slipping out when the high had ended. However, you could hear the sound of his leathers slipping off, and when you opened your hazy eyes, you saw a glimpse of his cock, throbbing, the tip pink and leaking, begging for attention. He stroked himself a few times, hissing at the feeling, before running it through your folds thrice to get it soaked and ready.

“Ready? Take a deep breath for me and relax, darling.”

He whispered softly into your ear, and you could feel his tip prodding at your entrance before slowly inching in. No matter how many times you took him, the sheer size of his dick always managed to surprise you.

The stretch immediately took over your senses, making you whine against him. It was a mixture of pleasure and irritable pain that you didn’t want to admit how much you enjoyed.

After what felt like hours of soft, whispered reassurances and praise of how good you were doing for him, and how warm and tight you were, he had finally bottomed out. You immediately jerked your hips against him, breath leaving you at how delicious it felt.

“Please move, Az. Need you to.”

You said, your breathing already shaky. You weren’t going to last long, and from the way he was already groaning and throbbing in you, he wasn't going to either.

He pressed himself against you, beginning a slow and steady rhythm as he moved against you, groaning lewdly into your ear. His place turned to sloppy, loving thrusts as he just began going with instinct.

“You gonna cum with me, sweet girl? Yeah?”

He asked in a breathless tone, panting for air. The moment you hit your climax, your walls clenching and throbbing around his cock, letting you feel every particular inch and vein as it moved inside of you, he also came, thick ropes of his seed shooting deep into you, both of your moans and groaning making a chorus with the sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping skin as he painted your insides white.

You both just laid there for a moment, content to enjoy the afterglow, and as soon as it came down, Azriel was there for his usual godly aftercare.

“Bath?”

He asked, voice raspy and somewhat gruff from all his noises. You gave a wordless nod, and he picked you up, carrying you over to the bathtub and starting a warm bath, easing both of you into it.

He knew your entire haircare routine to the smallest details, and his shadows, still a bit pouty that he hadn’t let them participate in your session, seemed eager to help as you felt their cool touch against your scalp, then moving on to wash your body with your favorite scent of body wash.

You washed his hair, scrubbing shampoo in, then washed out and followed by conditioner, before the shadows helped you clean him off. A few of them helped ‘clean’ his very sensitive cock, causing Azriel to hiss at the feeling and tell them to stop, which only made you and the shadows giggle.

When you finally got out of the bath, you didn’t bother to put on any clothes, and neither did he. You enjoyed the moments of bare skin-to-skin contact with him.

Curled up in the bed, laying beside him with your arms around him, one of his arms around her waist, and his wings curled protectively around you, you whispered something to him.

“I love you.”

You whispered, voice soft and a bit raspy from earlier. He opened one eye, peeking at your serene face, before whispering back with a smile on his lips.

“I love you, too.”

[fireflyinks]

good boy ⭒

reader x peeta mellark smut

a/n : i’m actually screaming this was so fun to write, pls repost if ya like it!! 💗

contains : sub peeta mellark, soft dom reader, praise kink, multiple rounds, peeta and the reader own a bakery, pinv, talk of having kids, no protection, riding

MATURE 18+

Peeta Mellark was a hard worker. Partly because that’s just who he was as an individual, but mainly because of his upbringing. The need to impress ran through his body as if it were his own blood. He craved praise, feened off of it as if it were a sweet, sweet nectar.

This notion was very present in his every day life. When he’d accidently burn a loaf or spill a bag of flour, his face would turn a rosey pink shade out of shame and he’s scramble to fix his mistake. His puppy dog eyes would shoot over to me, as if to scream “I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”, only to be met with a peck on the cheek and a whisper of “It’s okay, you’re fine”. His eyes would soften, and his hands would become less clammy, brow less furrowed, and cheeks even rosier.

If I dared to give him a slight compliment in the morning, the blonde’s head would be in the clouds for the rest of the day, almost in a trance from the mere thought of his special girl thinking he was admirable.

At first, I thought this whole ordeal was sort of sad, I mean depressing even. Peeta was just so love starved.

But then I learned how to use it to my advantage.

There he was, on top of me, trying his very best to impress me. His cock pistoned in and out vigorously, each one of my moans encouraging him. My back arched off of the sheets as I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get him deeper.

He understood this rather quickly, trading speed for force and plunging himself directly into my core.

“Good boy.” I moaned out, almost automatically. His pace faltered for a moment, starstruck.

“Say that again.” He whimpered.

“Say what baby?” I questioned, confused as to why he’d stopped.

“Uh, please can you um call me a good boy again?” He mumbled. Something in his eyes had shifted, he looked almost helpless.

“Well…” I decided to tease him, rile him up more. “I can only do that if you act like one, so if you fuck me real good, yeah, you can be my good boy.”

Peeta nodded, beginning to thrust into me once again, determined to be a good boy.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” I cooed, gazing up at him with major ‘fuck me’ eyes.

His jaw slacked and he moaned deeply. “You’re so- fuck, you’re so hot.”

I giggled at the love drunk expression on his face. “Thank you, my handsome boy.”

I felt his cock twitch inside of me. God, praise really did have an effect on him.

“I- oh baby I’m gonna come.”

I moaned as he fucked me deeply, hitting my g-spot with each thrust.

“Go ahead, come inside of me like a good boy.”

His eyes rolled back into his head as he came with his new found permission. He pulled out immediately, connecting our lips before lying down beside me.

“That was- fuck, amazing.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

There was silence for a few moments before he realized.

He sprung into apology immediately.

“Holy shit baby, you didn’t come, did you? I’m so sorry love, I’ll do whatever you want, eat you out, fuck you again, whatever you want. I’m so stupid, I don’t know how I-“

I pressed my lips to his to shut him up as I climbed on top of him.

“No baby, you don’t have to ride me, I’m the one who messed up. Let me-“

“Peeta, I want you to be a good boy and listen to me.”

I angled his wet cock upward before sinking down onto it. I began working my hips.

“You are not stupid, you are so smart.” I bounced on him as I spoke, “you’re so good to me, everybody makes mistakes and that’s ok. You have gotten me off a million times before. You’re such a good fucking boy.”

He began to look away as blush creeped into his face. I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me in my eyes.

“You’re so handsome baby, ah fuck- you’re such a hard worker, and you’ll make an amazing father one day.”

My legs began to shake as I released on his lap, my cum flowing down his cock. I continued to ride him throughout my high.

“Now say it to me.” I ordered.

“You’re so beauti-“

I shook my head, “No, tell me about how much of a good boy you are.”

His face contorted, clearly too shy to say such things.

I touched his face lightly, “Peeta, good boys do what they’re told. Be a good boy.”

He nodded, “Um- I’m a good boy.” He whimpered, unsure of himself.

“I don’t believe you. Say it like you mean it.”

He cleared his throat, looking into my eyes. “I’m a good boy. I made a mistake and that’s ok. I’m so handsome and will make a really good father. Fuck- I’m gonna come.”

He released inside of me, painting my spongy walls white. His voice filled the room with pornographic noises. After letting him catch his breath, I crawled off of him. Peeta walked into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a damp rag and a smile on his face.

He began to slowly clean me up. I looked in between my thighs and laughed at the amount of semen that had collected.

“Jeez, if we don’t start being more careful, you might be an amazing father sooner than we’d imagined.”

He chuckled, pressing his lips onto mine. “I’d be ok with that.”

[nadiahshaven]

we leavin

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summary : you and connie at a party, and he gotta correct your smart mouth.

content : connie x f!reader. reader is black-coded. mention of connie being a drug dealer. pieck is a fruit feen. choking. slight nsfw mention. connie fine ass got a thumb ring. cant think of nothing else.

wc : 851.

a/n : this was jus sumn i wrote up quick asf bc i wanna update real bad LOL. lmk if yall want an extended smut ver. enjoy!

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you knew connie, and you knew he wasn’t the type to let up on you when you acted out. whether it was because you couldn’t watch your mouth, or because you simply forgot who you were dealing with, your dope boy was there to reel you back in every time.

“watch that mouth, ma.”

“keep fuckin’ playin wit’ me, (y/n), and i’ma give ya’ ass exactly what’chu lookin’ fa’.”

never was this more apparent than the night you had the audacity to try and push your luck in front of your best friend.

you and connie got invited to a kickback at his best friend, ony’s house. ony was the easygoing, fun kind of dude that perfectly balanced out connie’s sort of reserved personality. any time connie was out, you knew he was with ony. any time there was a party of any kind, you knew ony was hosting.

the two of you walked into the loud party, scrunching your faces up a bit in unison at the intensity of the bass of future’s ‘march madness’ blasting throughout the house. you kind of expected the volume, due to the fact that you heard the music while you were outside. it didn’t help that everyone was singing the lyrics with their entire chest, either.

pushing through the crowd to get to some sort of rest spot, ony caught you two.

“aye!” he yelled, catching you and connie’s attention.

connie walked you two over, hand on your waist so he wouldn’t lose you, over to the drink table where ony was previously mingling with some other guys.

“you got this shit jumpin’, ony!” you chuckled, voice raised a bit higher over the music.

“it’s what i dooo.” ony shrugged, pearly whites on full display as a smile painted his dark, plump lips. “i’m jus’ that nigga.”

“yea’, yea.” connie intervened. “i can’t wait for the day you throw a jaint and nobody show up fa’ ya’ ass.”

“never gon’ happen.” ony simply said.

before connie could give a very aggressive rebuttal, you peeped your own best friend, pieck, over in the kitchen snacking on fruit that she knew was supposed to go into the punch. you decided it’d be best to leave ony and connie to their madness in favor of making your way over to her, strike up some conversation.

“pieckkk!” you opened your arms, barreling toward her in a hug. due to her scrolling on her phone while eating the fruit, she didn’t notice you were about to tackle her, until you did. she engulfed you back into the same, tight, hug you gave her.

“my heartyy-“ pieck smiled, leaving a quick smack on your plump ass as you two pulled away from the hug, to which you chuckled in response. “bitch, yo’ ass look good as fuck in’nat dress. how connie ain’t act up?”

“girl, i don’t know.” you rolled your eyes. “he choose when to appreciate me.”

pieck snickered, going back to eating the fruit she was almost done with at this point. you and pieck engaged in catching up with each-other. ranging from talking about your relationships, to simply rating people’s fits that you saw around the party.

you didn’t realize how much time passed, and a hand snaked around your waist— which caught you off guard. before you could turn around to flip out, a familiar, silver thumb ring with your initials engraved into it grabbed your eye. it was connie, and by the look in his eye when you turned your head towards him, he was ready to leave.

you ignored it though, given you were in the middle of a conversation with your best friend.

“mami.” connie called you.

“what, connie?” you responded, with a bit more attitude in your voice. he decided to give you this one pass, because he did kind of interrupt you in the middle of a sentence.

“i’m ready to leave.”

“you gon’ have to wait.”

pieck tried to pretend she was minding her business, starting to scroll through nothing on her phone.

“(y/n), i don’t got time for the bullshit. let’s go.” connie put a bit more firmness to his voice. this is where you would usually oblige, but you wanted to see how far you could go in public. he wouldn’t do much in front of all of these people, right?

“like i said,” you mistakenly repeated, with your back still turned to him. “you gon’ have to wai—“

you couldn’t finish your sentence before he grabbed you by your throat from behind you, leaning down to your ear.

“let me have ta’ repeat myself for a third time, and watch how fast i put’cho ass over my shoulder.”

you couldn’t respond, for the simple fact that you knew anything you were gonna say, would not help your case. so, he continued.

“bein’ hardheaded won’t get’chu nowhere except on ya’ knees, ma. now lem’me make sure you hear me loud ‘nd clear when i say this.” his lips were tickling the outside of your ear, making your body hotter than you wanted it to.

“we leavin’.”

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property of @nadiahshaven.

continuation -> good girl

[getodrools]

Suguru giving backshots plsplsplsplspls 🥺

ᯓ★ warnings. mdni | f! reader | pwp, spanking, praising, creampie, reader lowkey a pillow princess ngl, he miiight've stuck his thumb somewhere. ( wc. 1.2k + )

THE ENTIRETY OF THE left side of your face was scrunched in; ridden cheek and throbbing temple mushed right into the warm pillow ahead, even your puckered mouth curved a wrinkled ‘o’ the harder his hips bucked — forcing you to sink further and slip with drool… Dribbling into the cushion with a mix of moans and a slathered mess, the sheets shade darker the longer his barrage held on behind you…

Suguru’s nose wiggles up high and mighty, almost a selfish pride swelling in his chest as you struggle to gather your thoughts. Only dreams nestled into your pillow, some babble out your puffy lips, “Yes Getō! Harder, please 〜 !”

“Don't worry baby.” Invading your soft, gummy walls with focused thrusts, Getō was like a damn jackhammer in response to your bursted outcry….

Getō’s rough grip clipping around your waist dragged you with him each time he reeled back, and with each rhythmic slosh your pussy gushed with, he'd rush back forward — though never letting that bulbous capped tip pop out, he'd sink all nth inches of pale, fat meat to the hilt when ragged hips would kiss again. All strong with a loud clap ricocheting harder than the ones before.

And it was rapid.

Groping at the squishy flesh bending into his pelvis, he squeezes down with firm, gratifying force — kneading those two doughy globes he adores. And he couldn't help but spread them wide. Soiled eyes mimicking, he ogled how your pussy sucks him right him up. Watching how the tight skin wraps around him, like a suction trying to keep him trapped there…

… Admiring how easily stretched your slippery folds get when he'd bring you to be beyond a draining faucet.

“Pretty pussy milking me baby, she's creamin’.” No wonder the milky, translucent ring globbing at the thick end of his base churned; his cock pistoned on a wild onslaught relentlessly.

Spreading those fleshy orbs as wide as that perk hole did when a sleazy thumb ringed around it. A perfect parabola fromed at your back; arching and earning ease to slide through your sopping cunt with further wrath as he toyed at your little hole.

Your moans were no louder than the clapping behind you. Mewling out his name in a spew, half the time incoherent or a long drawl in syllables… Pussy too wrecked at the stuffing length pumbling through you. Sticking every bit of girthy inch ‘till those muffled cries in the cushion tickled your lips, and that pesky thumb adding to the riding pleasure broke something in you.

“Fuck—” Your eyes knock back.

Nuzzling that pretty face into the comforting like safe heaven — the only thing you could reach for to suppress that agonizing scream of monumental high, since trying to press the tips of your fingers at the working pelvis clapping against you in mercy, yet he swatted those weeping hands away.

“Don't you try runnin’—augh—take it baby.” You did, especially after the mean swat cracking right down your crack… but even then, pleasure over feening thoughts, you were reminded again, and again, how good of a fuck he truly is when you begged for more…

Forcing you to ride out that sweet high as he barreled in you. Getō wanted to hear it all — grabbing at your shoulders, he lifts you up from shying into the sheets, and your tits jiggle freely in the open air as you popped up; back stretching and head knobbly, you wail out jaggedly.

His breath fanned close to the shell of your ear, “Yeah, cum on my dick, pretty girl.” Getō wormed his way into you too deep, bucking achingly hard that's all you could do!

His swollen dick sunk inside by the inch, moving into that utterly soaked tunnel with the utmost ease — now deeper with languid strokes in a never-ending onslaught.

Warm, gooey walls convulse, and the liquidy embrace hugged him just perfectly. It all squished around him like a wet sponge with honest, earnest appraisal, making the man sigh out pleasurably too.

Getō groans as heavy balls tighten up, “Fuck!”

Feeling as if a bird in the sky, the thumb in your ass wiggled out and quickly mashed at the glowy curvature of your back as his other squeezed at the back of your neck, pushing you straight down. Smothering you back into the sheets with all of his weight; his curling toes press into the covers to bury further into your tight, wet core with all his might.

Shoving his pulsating cock straight into your pussy and impaling you with nothing but turgid meat, you could feel how he throbbed a few times. And with the fourth hump, Suguru’s heavy balls popped.

That flushed crown spurt out in a sticky mess; white seed spattered the inner lining of your pussy. Hot and wet cum rushed along the length of your insides all at once — A fast, quick heap of fluid that lashed out and stained your gummy walls in oozing white. Enough batter to pack you full, and fill the nooks and crannies of that tight channel he purely buries himself in. His hips grind against your ass to shimmy the rest his high further; stirring his swollen dick around with warm and sticky juices offering in thick globs and little gushes of wetness…

Groaning and shuddering, eyes squeezing, you both moan in unison.

He pushed down, not quite stopping, always moving, yet with a slower, languid pace, “That was cute of you...” He huffs, swinging his head back to swipe away his hair, and your tired eyes flutter open, confused, “You tryna run from my dick, heh, that was a cute attempt.” Asshole!

<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: MORE SUGURU –>

[eyesxxyou]

Fun & Games

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. but it's truly all fun and games until you manage to get your hands on an interdimensional device.

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, possessive!hobie, public sex, y/n is a real hoe and I love her for that, odd love hate relationship, clit slapping, Gwen's here very briefly, wall sex, bondage, mentions of injury, just me being horny so it's kinda horribly written, lemme know if I missed anything

"She's gotta be somewhere." Gwen sat perched on a ledge, the eyes of her mask wide and alert for any sign of the anomaly. In other words, you. You had somehow managed to get your hands on a interdimensional device of Miguel's making and have been hopping all around the multiverse causing mayhem. "You sure you have no idea where she's at? She's from your dimension after all, not to mention-"

The thing is, the devices don't show exact locations. They just tell you what dimension others are in. Leaving Gwen and Hobie hopping about right after you to put you back where you belong.

It was Hobie's fault after all. Being the Black Cat of his dimension meant you were good at sleight of hand. A single run in with you and next thing he knows his device is gone, his cock is hard, and he misses you so fucking much.

"Yeah, yeah, i's my fault or whateva." He spoke over the communicator, his eyes scanning across the streets for just a peek of that brilliant white hair of yours. "I'll keep an eye out, jus' stay where you are and don't underestimate 'er. She'll put you on ya arse before ya know it." He's gone toe to toe with you plenty of times to know that you're rather skilled in combat. And for reasons he'd also know that you're flexible.

He cut off his device, the one Miguel reluctantly gave him after laying into him over his incompetence. "You're gonna deal with this mess you've made!" He almost crushed the device in his hand from gripping it so hard as he pushed it into Hobie's chest. "You get her back to where she belongs then you're out. You're done."

Hobie honestly couldn't give less of a damn about being booted from the society. Taking orders and being a part of a team was really cramping his style. Preferred it when it was just him and his own dimension's problems.

He hopped between buildings in this dimension looking for any marker of you. Your cloud-like hair done always in wild, untamed curls that somehow manage to sit perfect around your face. You wore black leather, nice sharp spikes, claws you made yourself that left their scar against his chest as well as down his back.

Hobie liked how complicated your relationship is. How you constantly kept him on his toes, remained so inconsistent that he never got bored. One second you were on your knees, his cock weighing heavy on your pretty tongue, just narrowly missing the angel bite piercings you had with fangs in, and the next, you were trying to claw his eyes out of his face. You were batshit fucking insane and he was absolutely in love with you though, he'd never admit that.

He hoped he found you before Gwen did— it's been just a little under a month and he's been feening for you, spending his lonely nights when he doesn't have a million wounds and a few broken bones to tend to with his hand wrapped firmly around his cock and your name wetting his lips with prayer. He's fucking pussy-whipped, desperate, absolutely nuts for you.

And when he finds you (which he always does somehow), you're hopping across a rooftop and sliding down a gutter into a nearby alleyway. He follows you stealthily, lingering in the shadows as he rounds the corner and drops into the shady alley. But he finds you aren't there. He pauses, talks a moment to let his instincts take the lead.

It just took a second, a small tingle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing but he hardly had any time to react before you were on his back with your claws pressed against his throat. "Ya missed me?" You whispered in his ear with the touch of a smile in your voice.

Hobie moved quickly, pushing the both of you back until your back slammed against the jagged brick wall and your grip loosened just enough for him to pry himself out of your clawed hold. He webbed you up with your hands trapped above your head. Your goggles were already pushed up into your wild hair and your cat-like eyes gleamed at him. "I'd say you do."

Hobie reached up and pulled off his mask. “Nice to see ya too, Y/N. We can have our reunion once ya back where ya belong.”

“Never took you as the type to join a committee of interdimensional spider fascist.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist against the binding of his webs but you know all too well how strong they actually are. Many times have you been caught in his web, bent in all sorts of positions. He’s always been your favorite toy.

“No’ by choice. You did me a fava’ actually, they gave me the boot ‘cause of you.” He came close, his tall, lean stature looming over you as he removed the watch from your wrist and deactivated it. Hobie looked down at you, looking into your sultry eyes that told him you just wanted to sit on his dick then make your grand escape. You’re always dressed in leather, your shorts so tight and small it leaves hardly anything to the imagination. You were wearing those torn up, distressed tights he loved so much and that he’s definitely torn his own fair share of holes in.

“Don’t you want to know why I went to the places I did?”

“There’s a reason?” He thought it was just you fucking around, trying to cause as much mayhem as possible, begin a nice little collection of diamonds stolen from different dimensions. Your motivations were always a bit hard to decipher.

You leaned in as close as you could in the position you were stuck in and whispered to him, “All the dimensions I went to had a version of you in them. I wanted to see which one was my favorite.” It was a confession of sin just between the two of you in this dark little alleyway he had you stuck in. “Would you like me to tell you about the other yous I’ve met?” You took his stoic silence as answer enough.

“There was one with the prettiest eyes. One blue and one brown. I got to look in them while I rode his pretty face. He made me cum so hard.” Your voice was so heavy with the memory of it but you didn’t linger. “And the other one, nice, long locs. He fucked me so good my legs were shaking. Oh- and the other one made me squirt for the first time-”

Your descriptions sparked something primal in Hobie, something carnal and possessive. A part of him was aroused at the thought of your pretty little cunt he was absolutely addicted to getting ran through by different versions of himself. Maybe you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, why else would you do something like this?

“You a lil’ whore, ya know tha’, kitty?” His hands were already at the waist of your shorts, undoing the makeshift button you had made after he broke the original one a while ago. His lips were on yours, licking and biting feverishly in attempt to get a taste of you. “Guess I gotta remind you who you belong to.” He needed to tame your pretty little pussy, domesticate it, make it purr for him.

“I don’t belong to anyone, you know that.” You murmur against his lips, shifting your hips to make it easier for him to get your shorts out of the way. He pulled them down to your knees just above your boots and shifted away from you to duck under and slot his way between your nylon-clad thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of your body as he made his way back up, shoving your torn shirt up so his lips could feel your heated skin. “I’d beg to diffa, luv. I think you know ya slutty pussy belongs to me because why else would you hop aroun’ the multiverse just to hook up wit’ me ova and ova again?” He forced your shirt up over your tits, leaving you nice and exposed, unable to do anything about it even if you wanted.

“I’ve just gotta show you tha’ the original is always the bes’.” He had no time to take his time, to worship every inch, every curve, every dimple. He wanted his cock in you, he wanted to fuck you hard, fast, and deep. He wanted to destroy that pride of yours and force you to admit that he will always be your favorite.

He knows that's just how you like it. Rough, quick, and almost animalistic with a hint of risk. You can't get off without it. 

He tears a new hole in your tights right that the crotch and finds that your panties are already soaked, the vague outline of your plump pussy pressing against the fabric that clings to you like a second skin. He gets so hard at just the sight of it, so hard it becomes painful. "I's been a long fuckin' time." Hobie breathed out under his breath. "Ma favorite girl missed me I can see." He pressed the bulge of his cock against your wet, desperate cunt.

Your muscles tense and shudder uncontrollably as your lips attempt to contain a horrid little whimper. You weren't usually so sensitive, Hobie could feel your thighs clamping at his hips in an attempt to close your legs. His fingers slid past your panties and pulled them to the side just to find that your pussy was already pink and swollen, abused and misused by all the cocks you've already taken. You were so damn sensitive, your bud throbbing and engorged.

Hobie couldn't help but let out a chuckle, a smirk framing the scoff he let out. "A fuckin' slut, I tell you. You've already been so damn ran through." He slapped your pussy nice and firm and your whole body jolted with the pain and pleasure it caused and you cried out a little too loud.

"Migh' wanna be quiet. Ya don't wan' someone coming down and seeing your poor cut gettin' abused." His fingers slid between your slick folds, every part of you tender to the touch, every movement leaving your body trembling. It's pathetic how quickly he can have you and squeaking, whining, crying mess. A street cat tame by those long, slender fingers of his as he plays in your mess, a reminder of all the other hims you've had. You had been out on a conquest and somehow it's ending with you getting conquered.

It was easy for him to glide his fingers into your heat, the pad of his thumb drawing circles on your poor clit while he used his other hand to grab your chin and force you to look him in the eyes. "Can you feel tha'?' Your cunt was swallowing his digits down to the knuckle and squeezing. "Nice lil' kitty is purrin' fo' me. Think I migh' make 'er a house cat."

"Go fuck yourself." You manage to choke out between the strangled moans of your throat. Hobie chuckled and kissed you, nice and hard with his tongue against yours and his fingers playing your pussy like a fiddle. God, he was so good at what he did, knew just where your sweet spot was to have you crumbling in his hold. 

He pulled back a little, both of your lips wet with saliva, and nipped at your bottom lip. His fingers pumped in and out of your trembling pussy that wept for him, your slick dripping from his knuckles. You writhed against your restraints, claws sawing at his webbing to little avail. And you knew his fingers were nothing compared to that gorgeous cock of his that fit in you so snuggly and touched places that, before him, you hadn’t even known existed.

But his fingers were so good, able to caress your walls in ways his length couldn’t. His thumb rubbed your clit ferociously, sending spiked balls of pleasure to every muscle in your body. You spasmed, back arching off the walls, eyes rolling, vision blurry. “S-stop fuckin’ with me.” You manage to spit out at him in a shaking gasp.

“But fuckin’ wit’ ya is my favorite part.” Hobie slipped his fingers from your messy hole and took it upon himself to get a taste. “Plus, i’s no’ like you show me any mercy when ya in one of ya moods. I’ve gotta point to prove here.” His hands began to undo his belt with rushed persistence.

“And what point is that?” You watch him pull himself out, the length of his cock pressed against your pelvis. Prettiest you’ve ever seen, nice and long with subtle veins and dark brown tip beading with pearls of precum that weep from his tip and roll down the underside of his shaft.

Hobie maneuvered (more like manhandled) your fame so that your legs were up over his shoulders. He spat on his fingers, used it as lube to spread down his length. “Tha’ you ‘n I both know you can’t replace me with some off brand version.”

“Oh, I’d argue they were very on brand. All had that pretty face of yours. That prettier cock.” Your words faltered a bit as he pushed into you without so much as a warning, jealousy getting the better of him. His fingers grip your thighs, body pressing you into the wall while his hips rutted against you. He fucked you like an animal, his teeth gritting, his cock brutalizing your used up cunt. And the position allowed him to sink so deep you felt him in your gut, in your throat, in your very head. He fucked the air out of your lungs but that didn’t stop your cries of pleasure.

And as pretty as they were, Hobie didn’t need the two of you being stumbled upon. He placed his palm over your mouth, kept you placid and quiet white he fucked you with intention. He was gonna claim your pussy, paint it white, make it his, let you know that no matter how hard you try the two of you will always find yourself dancing to this same song. You’d fight, you’d fuck, you’d fight again, you’d fuck again. Sometimes you were allies, sometimes you were enemies, but at all times you were lovers.

He spanked your swollen clit while he fucked you in such a brutal nature. There was no sympathy for you, no mercy, no kindness offered. Just carnality unmatched by any of your other affairs. It might be the spider venom bound to his DNA making him this way. Hobie– normal Hobie, rational Hobie– was not a jealous person, especially not towards someone who, in all cases, did not belong to him.

The emotions of it were conflicting. The mixture of jealousy and arousal at the thought of you with another version of himself because in all the ways that made him who he was on paper was, he was with you every single time. Genetically, generally, the vague outline of himself. But the experiences were different, slightly tweaked in a way, and in the way that matters you had fucked entirely different people. And that was the fun of it. What would be the point of sleeping with the same person over and over again if not for the slight differences every time.

Hobie wondered if they made you feel this way, your back arching so dramatically off the wall, your eyes going cross with pleasure as your moans are contained behind his palm. The two of you had so much shared history that even if they were better, it still wouldn't compare. He knew you like he knew many things, on a level balanced by emotion and technicality.

The two of you were never meant to be anything more than this, a quick, filthy fuck in the back alley of some random place and yet you both were sure you were soulmates in some sick twisted way. You'd both go around in these pointless circles having the most fun with never making the effort to define yourselves or restrict yourselves to something that wasn't completely and entirely you.

Your toes curled in your boots as you felt the brutality of an orgasm coming your way. It built within you, clawing to get out like you clawed through the webs. It seized you like being strangled, curled around your body, left you warm and fuzzy and delirious.

"Look a' me, luv. Look a' me with those pretty eyes of yours." The way he fixed your face forward, made you look him in the eyes. "Nice lil' pussy gonna make me cum." Your walls spasmed, hugged him, squeezed around his length, molding to every curve, every vein. If only his hand weren't over your mouth, you'd kiss his pretty lips and tell him to shut the fuck up and just fuck you, just lose himself in you.

And oh, was he losing himself. An orgasm quickly approaching on the horizon. Hobie pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes low and sultry as he removed his hand from your mouth and gripped your thighs once more. "Fuck-" Hobie gasps and shudders, his abdomen tightening with the beginnings to a climax.

"Go ahead, pretty boy. You said you have a point to prove, right? Go ahead and prove it." You watched in breathless pants as he takes his pleasure in you, comes undone for you, his fingertips pressing bruises into your supple skin. "You're my favorite, my pretty boy." You confess to him. In all versions, you were simply looking for him, something you didn't find, no matter how eerily similar they all were.

Hobie murmurs something incoherent under his breath as he cums. He's swift with pulling out, just in time to spill his hot semen all over your heat. He claimed you like he always wanted to, with the way his hands left bruises in your skin, with the way his trembling cock spread his cum all over you, how his lips claimed yours in a moment of passion.

"You can stop pretendin' to be trapped now." Hobie murmured against your lips, pulling away and running his thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip before making himself decent. You had long sawed your way through his webs, they never last that long. You let your arms drop. "Finally, they were startin' to hurt." 

Hobie removes himself from your body, letting you take the time to get yourself together. "How much time do I have this time?" It was back to business as usual, not that either of you minded. You both enjoyed your games.

"A minute before I call my partna. Two before I start chasin' you myself." He always gave you a bit of a head start, maybe out of some soft spot he had for you. Sometimes he caught you, sometimes he didn't, it was all up to chance.

You pull your goggles out of you disheveled hair and fix them over your eyes. You lean into him, close enough that he thought you might kiss him. "I'll try not to break your nose this time, lovely." You peck his lips as a distraction as you slip your hand into the pocket of his vest and attempt to steal your stolen watch back.

Hobie's already thinking one step ahead of you. His hand grasps your wrist. "No' tha' generous. An' you've got 'bout 40 seconds lef'. Better get goin'." He's dealt with your bullshit more times than he can count. He knows what goes on in that pretty head of yourself, how you're always scheming, even against him— especially against him."

You scoff then chuckle. "Fine— c'ya 'round, Bee." You turn and rush off, grasping a gutter to leap up on the rooftop and run off.

You both love your fun and games.

[dondeeee911]

How would your person feel if they lost you?

I'm lost without youuu😮‍💨

1> white heart 2>green heart 3>Gold heart

Pile 1

   I’m hearing “You hold the keys to my heart 🥺”. Your person would be feening for every ounce of you, you are their drug! Temper tantrums, vandalism, cursing their peers because you are out of their reach. A whole mental breakdown! You name it, possible lack of sleep, no appetite, a snotty nose, consistent calls! Erratic behavior is prominent in this pile, Wheeew someone’s got themselves a hothead!🤭🥵 “I need you and only you, I’m sorry baby please!” I see your person hyperventilating. WOAH, your person needs a dose of your intoxicating love.😳 

Pile 2

  Dang🙁, your person knows there is no coming back from this tragedy. Standing there, still, frozen, in a state of shock. “It’s over, she got away”🥺 only because they know they don’t deserve you. Seeing no way around their truth and not having many words to say to win you over is making your person go insane. I see your person sitting with themselves in a dark room or in their car accounting for every possible fuck up they dished out to you.  Guilt and uncertainty conquer their mind. “Did I ever make you feel loved?”  They know they took advantage of the unconditional person they know you are, trust me THEY KNOW.😒

Pile 3

    Your person could be a mature, composed individual, willing to have an effective conversation with you to resolve this breakup. 💪🏽They would want to take you out for breakfast, or lunch, or meet up outdoors to converse. Face to face, they want to see and feel all the pain they’ve caused you. A need to focus on the now and not the past is what they are driven to commit themselves to for the sake of having you back. OKAAY! your person wants to accommodate you in every way needed, even better than you last experienced them. “Baby let me upgrade you!” Vibes. 💍🤑

Copyright © 2024 dondeeee911. All rights reserved.

[torasplanet]

❝𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝙎𝙇𝙐𝙏.ᐟ❞

PLUG!E. YEAGER + BIMBO!F. READER ft. PLUG!C. SPRINGER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you wanna get jealous over some crack whore and show your ass to connie? fine but now you gotta ride eren while connie watches. have fun.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; riding, slight degradation, unprotected sex, drabble, overstimulation, p in v, exhibition, mean!eren, mean!connie, threesome(mentioned), drugs, high sex, dacryphilia, cuckolding w armin(mentioned), college au, skin color not mentioned, ib

It didn’t bother Eren that much when you sat in the backseat of his car with a pout on your face while watching him deal to a dope-feen bitch who was touching all on his forearm, he could see where you were coming from and couldn’t get mad at you for being jealous, he just found it silly that you were getting upset over a crack whore who he didn’t even spare another glance after handing her the drugs she asked for.

You sitting there with a pout and your arms crossed against your chest ignoring him when he tried to talk to you didn’t bother him either. Eren was used to your fucked up attitude by now and just reminded himself to take care of that later so it didn’t lead to a petty argument.

However…what did bother him was when you purposely dropped five dollars on the ground on your way to the gas station store while he was busy practically showing your entire ass and lace panties to Connie who sat in his passenger seat after you begged him to give you money so you could get whatever fucking candy you asked for after ignoring him for the majority of the ride. That shit bothered him a lot, he considered asking Connie to handle the deal he was currently working on and getting out of the car dragging your ass back to the car by your hair, and teaching you not to fuck with him right there but no…he had a better idea. And that idea would come into play right now.

“‘Ren c’mon! My legs hurt…” You whined out planting your hands on Eren's chest as you sat on his lap on the couch with him eight inches deep inside of you, you had already come twice and your legs were aching! It wasn’t fair how he wasn’t letting you have a break! The brunette man simply looked up at you with his red-lidded eyes exhaling smoke into your precious face which was covered in tears and your ruined makeup, he passed the blunt in his hand back to Connie who sat on the other side of the couch watching the whole ordeal with a grin on his face “Hell no, you’re gonna fuck yourself out right in front of Connie since you love showing your ass to him right?” Eren said as you gazed down at him with watery eyes, it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a statement you were supposed to respond to because no matter what you said, it’d just end in him giving a slap to your ass.

But unfortunately, you weren’t thinking, not at all this entire night but you never did “No! I don’t, only for you ‘rennie!” Connie snickered at your pathetic statement as more tears spewed from your eyes, you turned your head and glared at him which just made him laugh even more, you looked so pathetic. Completely naked while they were both fully dressed, sobbing, and now you were glaring at him? You looked like a kicked puppy more than anything.

Eren sat up straight at your words before gripping your jaw and turning your head to face him, you could now feel his breath on your face from how close you two were “Then explain to me why you acted like a stupid whore showing my pussy to him?” His green eyes stared daggers into your soul as you stood there looking down at him silent, you didn’t have anything to say. He knew why and if you said anything about it he’d probably torture you more for being a ‘jealous slut’ that’s how he would say it.

He narrowed his eyes at you once more before letting go of your face harshly making a sob escape your throat “That’s what I thought, now keep going.” Eren demanded slapping his hand on the soft flesh of your ass making even more tears escape your eyes and flow down the apples of your cheeks.

You glanced at Connie for help but he did nothing but hit the blunt while remaining in eye contact with you, you whined as you continued to ride him tiredly trying your best to ignore the pain in your legs. You hoped this didn’t lead to a threesome, they would be so mean to you! Armin wouldn’t just sit there and let this happen. He’d help you and tell Eren to relax and that you didn’t deserve it! Having Armin watch was way better than dumb Connie!

A combination of moans and sobs were let out into the air as you lazily rode Eren, your back arching when he hit just the right spot as the two men acted liked you weren’t even there casually talking and passing the blunt back and forth, that might’ve hurt more than your legs. Eren knew from experience that you lived off attention, you were like a Tinkerbell, if you didn’t get the attention you would just die and he was refusing to give you that. What a dick!

Wet sounds filled the room along with their chatting that you didn’t care enough to listen to, that’s if you even had enough in you to hear anything “Ngh! ‘Rennie!” You were nearing your breaking point cumming for a third time and Eren wasn’t letting you stop anytime soon, every time you even halted your movements slightly, he’d slap you on your ass or give you a glare that scared you enough to keep going but everything was too much and you stopped completely leaning forward and collapsing on his body continuing to cry loudly.

“Fuck are you stopping for?” Eren said rudely pushing your limp body off his looking at you with hate and disgust hurting your feelings even more than he already had “Too tired…please m’ sorry!” Eren didn’t even react to your pleas as you banged your balled-up fists on his chest tiredly to get him to sympathize with you somehow even just a little bit “Too fucking bad.” Eren responded, “Hold on bro, maybe she just needs a lil’ sum’ to help her.” Connie said with a laugh before standing and walking over to you, he grabbed your jaw with his hand before putting the blunt to your lips as you looked up at him your puffy eyes. He almost came in his pants right there at the sight of you.

He and Eren watched as you inhaled before Connie took the blunt away from your mouth, the springer male leaned closer to press your lips together but Eren kicked his kneecap making the gray-eyed boy look at his friend with a scowl “Fuck was that for Eren?” You watched the ordeal as you exhaled the smoke out of your nose just glad Eren wasn’t focused on making you continue, eren didn’t really like sharing. Especially sharing you but the idea of threesomes appealed to him as long as the other person didn’t kiss you.

“I ain’t even let Armin kiss her, what makes you think you can?” The Yeager man questioned making Connie scoff before he plopped back down to his spot on the couch grumbling something about Eren being too damn possessive to have threesomes. Eren’s head then turned back to you looking at you with the same lidded eyes that have been giving you little attention all night “Lemme tell you sum’ pretty…” He whispered sitting up again and getting close to your face, he gave you a small peck on your lips making you whine. You wanted more than just a stupid peck, small kisses are for cheeks not for lips.

You looked down at him with teary eyes as you tried not to let them spill out as Eren would probably laugh if you did “If you stop again, you’re not cummin’ for weeks.” The statement made your jaw drop and your eyes widen, the sobbing continued as you heard Connie cackle loudly “Better get moving jealous slut.” You pouted at the statement as they were the exact words you thought eren would call you while your salty tears dropped down onto Eren’s white tee, with these two, this night was never going to end.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[romeosharpae]

“NEVER CHANGING”

theodore nott x reader

last and final part of this series!!! another series is on the way but not sure when though... it's lowkey funny that i wrote that first post in 2022 and now it's 2024.. enjoy though!!

content warnings : cursing, mature language, explicit adult content, rough sex, make up sex, hate sex? (i don't know y'all theo's gone feral), kind-of toxic! theodore nott.

word count: somewhere in the 5k’s

let’s all be happy this part one took 2 months!!

parts : 1,2,3-

Some things just never changed, huh?

Your eyes searched around the crowded ball room and that sentence constantly replayed in your head. The entire thing was cliche, and humbly, you thought you were really above all of it. To avoid vomiting from annoyance, you bring the fleet of champagne in your hands up to your lips and take a long sip.

Standing aside you was boasting your mother and father. The ending of the war was a celebration for new beginnings! Or that's what your father declared in the multiple letter's that he wrote you. Though you knew that wasn't the actual reasoning behind your father's sudden urge to party; He had been trialed for being in cahoots with Voldemort.. and luckily, he was proven guilty. But the concept that you couldn't grasp was why your family wanted to celebrate with a party, it's not like the moment these people walked out of your childhood home that your mother wouldn't judge everything about them. Despite your disagreement of this you were unfortunately still in attendance, wearing an expensive black dress that nicely hugged your curves with your hair neatly pinned up.

Truthfully, if it hadn't been for your father's threat you wouldn't be here. You smiled when the twenty-seventh person approached your parents tonight and engaged in a meaningless conversation. Very rarely did any of the guest direct words towards you, and you really didn't even care because this was probably the last time you'd see most of them.

"Ah! Y/N, I almost didn't recognize you." The women spoke awkwardly, a fake smile slapped on her face. "How has things been going for you abroad?"

"Fine, Thanks for asking."

Before you even finished speaking the women turned back to your parents. About 3/4 into your sixth school year at Hogwarts you made the decision to go and study abroad, well, your parents knew that Hogwarts was in shambles and no longer wanted you there, so they sent you to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You didn't put up much of a fight because you always wanted to travel the world, and on top of that there were things that you needed to detach yourself with at Hogwarts. So, for the past three years of your life, you've been living happily between Italy, France, and America. Ironically, your extremely rich father funded that and threatened to stop doing so if you didn't show up tonight.

So here you were, sipping through endless champagne as you were surrounded by stereotypical aristocratic purebloods. It reminded you of when you were still in school.. you hated it then and even more now.

"Excuse me, I need some air."

Your parents didn't pay much attention to your words, far to engaged in their conversation. You took another sip of your beverage as you stepped outside of the ballroom and onto the balcony. There was a part of you that missed England while there was another that didn't -- Your life was filled with so much diversity now. You traveled, met new people, ate new food, learned about cultures… everything! But you still missed your home,

Or at least that's what you tell yourself it is.

In your heart, although you were often belittled for your lack of "accomplishments" you absolutely loved traveling the world. But sometimes when you were lying in bed, staring at the celling in silence, you couldn't but to feel sometimes that there was a void that needed to be filled. It was almost like your mind and body feened for something that you couldn't actually make out.

"…Y/N?" The deepness of the voice almost has you thinking it's your father.

With a bull-crap apology sitting on the tip of your tongue you twisted your body to where the sound come from. To your surprise it wasn't your father here to scowl you… it was the last person you needed to see. Your apology swallowed back down, along with every insult you promised yourself to throw Theodore's way the next time you crossed paths. The familiar deep blue gaze and beautifully structured features had your stomach falling your feet. Were you seeing things? Or dreaming?

Why would your parents invite Theodore Nott to your home? They always wanted the two of you together and perhaps that's why they allowed him to take advantage of your naiveness for so long, but you expressed when they wrote you about him three years ago that you wanted zero involvements with the brunette.

Recalling how he emotionally drained you years ago have goosebumps spreading across your skin. Recalling your emotional breakdown in the common room that night makes you more uneasy. The only thing that comforted you was the promised that you made and kept so far, since that night in the common room Theodore Nott never had you again. Not as a lover, as a friend, as an acquaintance… nothing! For the first few weeks it was hard, you missed him because you loved him, but seeing the smugness on his face in the great hall that declared "she'll be back" kept you from going back. Then eventually you left, and your healing became much easier.

"Hi Theo." You softly greet. "You look Good."

You were telling the truth, the brunette looked extremely handsome tonight. His brunette hair was styled in a way that you never seen before but liked and the suit he wore was black. You couldn't help but to think that in a way, the two of you almost looked like you came to this party together.

The brunette pays your compliment no mind, eyes simply piercing into yours, and he wore an expression like maybe he thought he was seeing things or dreaming. The intensity behind his eyes has shivers rolling down your spine -- There was a moment in time when that would've turned you into puddy but now the effect wasn't that strong. Ironically, there was a moment in time when you never could've imagined not talking to Theodore for three minutes let alone three years.

"There you are, Y/N. Come back inside."

Your mothers voice rang through your ears. When you turn around, she's standing at the entrance of the balcony, shooting you a disappointed look. Her eyes than snapped to Theodore who was still staring at you, "What a pleasant surprise, Hello Theodore!"

Your mother wore a smile that lets you know that she purposefully invited the brunette against your wishes. You scoffed, underneath your breath and folded your arms over your chest. Theodore continued staring at you, distracting himself from what your mother was saying.

After taking the hint that Theodore probably wasn't in the right mind to give a response your mother stepped back into the party. There was something deep inside of you that didn't want to leave Theodore standing out here, it was telling you to talk to him. For closure? Or perhaps a better understanding? You didn't know. Eventually you followed behind your mother and stepped into the party, but you couldn't help but to look over your shoulder,

"It was nice seeing you" You cooed.

And before he got a chance to respond your lost in the herd of people.

The next time that encountered Theodore Nott was just as unexpected as the last. Your mother had convinced you to stay in town for a couple of days extra, you easily agreed. Being your mothers only child came with self-inflicted guilt growing, your father was always working, so aside from the house elf's (Which you didn't have any more thanks to Hermione Granger) your mother was at the house alone all of the time. So, when she asked you stay a few days after the party, even though your gut was telling you no, you did. Plus, you didn't really have anything to do for the next week anyways you really didn't mind.

You were walking into your favorite muggle bistro, inhaling the sweet smell of fresh baked goods. Pansy Parkinson and you always made stops here during the summer for the delicious Angel Cake and ever since you step foot in England you've been craving it. Luckily for you your mother had been at some book club for pureblood housewives this evening, so you were able to go without being criticized for eating from muggles.

You laugh to yourself as you remembered that the last time you came here three years ago. Theodore and you drank so many frapes that your stomach hurt from all of the sweetness. Merlin, although he was horrible to you it was the best when he was good. Remembering the good times for you were hard, mainly because you had to bombard your head with the bad ones to be able to fully get over your attachment to him.

The look that he gave you at the party played through your head like a broken record. You wondered; did he finally realize what he lost after all these years? Did he finally value you as much as you did him back then? It was far too late for all of that.

"Y/N? is that you?!" A voice chirped.

Looking over your eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the bistro's owner daughter. When you used to visit the shop, she'd always insert herself in you and Theodore's conversations, he found it irritating while you thought it was cute because she was so much younger. The small curly head girl ran to you, wrapping her arms around your waist as she embraced you.

"Hi, how have you been?"

"Good! Sit down, I'll go put your order in." The ten-year-old girl dragged you to sit down at the counter, "Same thing, right?"

You smiled, "You know it."

The little girl's hair bounced off her shoulders as she ran into the back, smiling ear to ear. You sat down on the stool, picking up a menu to see of they've put anything new that you'd like to try on there.

You didn't pay much attention as someone came and took a seat beside you, an empty stool between the too. The Frangrance that your nose caught a whiff has your heartbeat picking up… and you didn't understand why because your mind hadn't processed it at first.

"How can I help you?" The waitress asked.

"Can I get a slice of Angel Cake and then a medium Carmel Latte with extra whipped cream, please."

The order makes your ears perk up and finally draws your eyes away from the menu. Ironically enough, that was your same exact that you've been getting from this bistro since you discovered it at the age of twelve. You smiled, "Hey, that's my exact order t--,"

"--Theodore?"

His eyes flew to you the second he heard your voice. Why is Theodore ordering your order? He used to act like this place was the worse now he's coming here voluntarily to eat their food. His blue eyes pierced into yours, and for about two minutes the two of you just stared at each other. You hoped he wouldn't just stare at you like he'd done at the party… It made you nervous. You humorlessly chuckled, gesturing to him,

"I thought you didn't like it." You smiled.

"Yeah, I don't."

"Yeah, why are you buying it then?"

Theodore didn't give you an immediate answer and it makes your stomach twist. You'd spent three years getting over him, why were you so nervous now? The brunette cocked his head, rolling his tongue inside of his cheek before chuckling, his much more humorless than yours.

"Because when you came back, I wanted it to be a shortage of Angel cake, so you'd regret leaving."

"Nothing would make me regret leaving."

Coming back to a shortage of this bistro's Angel Cake probably make you flip out but not make you regret leaving. Truthfully, you don't think nothing would make you regret leaving your six years because deep down you know that had you stayed, Theodore would still be dragging you along like some dog.

He knew that to and perhaps that's why there's fury burning behind his eyes as he looked at you. Yeah, you left without saying anything to him, but it was laughable to you that Theodore wore an expression like you betrayed him by ripping his heart out and stomping on it. You couldn't understand why he didn't grasp the concept that he's the reasoning behind your split… you can't even say break up because you were never in a relationship.

"I've written you eight hundred and thirty-seven times."

"I know." You admit.

"You didn't write back."

"I had nothing to say to you, Theodore."

That was the God honest truth. All of the letters that Theodore had written you from the time you left to about three ago were stuffed in a kitchen cupboard in your flat along. It wasn't like you didn't want to read them, it's just that you knew that you couldn't read them for your own sanity.

Theodore wasn't as calm and collected as you were, he snaps, "And why is that?"

"I'm not going to argue with you." You shrugged. "We're too old for that now, don't you think?"

"Okay let's talk then, Y/N. Let's talk like two civilized adults."

"There's no point in that, Theodore."

A large smile spreads across your face when the young girl brought your desserts out. Following behind her was a different girl with the identical thing for Theodore who was now looking at you like you were talking nonsense. If looks could killed, you'd be lifeless on the floor from the way that Theodore eyes were staring at you. When the dessert was placed in front of you you wasted no time digging your fork into it and breaking off a piece.

"Yes, there is because my feelings for you are never changing, Y/N."

Theodore was trying so hard to get you to fold, but you weren't. It almost sounded believable, but luckily enough you know that Theodore loved to pillow talk and get you exactly where he wants you.

"Okay."

"You don't care anymore."

Theodore spoke the words in a way that lets you know that he wasn't asking you, he was saying it like it was a fact. Your nonchalant attitude was fueling his thinking of that and that brought you satisfaction. To say that your fully over the brunette would be 100% percent lying so you wouldn't say it. You missed him, you shouldn't, but you did.

"Yeah, because you never did." You argued.

"I always did."

You sighed, "I don't want to talk about this anymore Theodore."

"So, you just disappear for three years and now you wanna cry because I want answers, Y/N?--,"

You couldn't believe the words that had just left his mouth. He couldn't be serious right now… you were the villain for leaving? Unknowingly, you stood up to your feet, "Real typical of you to invalidate my feelings and prioritize yourself, Theodore! You want me to sit here and listen to your feelings like you literally didn't break my heart."

"You don't deserve answers."

"I'm sorry."

For the first time, those words sounded genuine leaving Theodores mouth. It almost makes you want to give in, feeling like you've finally proved your point by hurting him back... then you realized two words weren't enough. Two words couldn’t even compare to emotions that you felt when Theodore broke your heart three years ago... it wasn’t enough.

It wasn't enough to forget the fact that he practically used you for his own pleasure, disregarding the emotional attachment that you were beginning to develop.

"What can I do to make you forgive me?"

"Theo--"

"Y/N." He interrupts.

What could Theodore do to make you forgive him? Were you even in the proper mindset to forgive Theodore Nott for the troubles that he put you in? You we're sure, if you were, you're not sure that you wanted to forgive Theodore.

The way that Theodore and you were just staring at each other caused the body hair on your arms to stick up. It felt awfully weird seeing the same cold green gaze from three years ago be filled up with so many emotions now. You heaved out a deep sigh, eyes pulling away from his and onto your drink. You only look back when Theodore placed a hand on your leg, basically sending a shockwave through your body.

"One more chance, Y/N."

You blinked, "Do you even think that you deserve one more chance…?"

"No."

All you could do was hum in response to Theodore. At least the brunette was finally being truthful to you, well, that was the least that he could do after all of these years. You took a bite from your Angel Cake, no longer seeing the point in participating in this conversation with your ex-lover.

"I know that I don't deserve another chance Y/N… but--" Theodore shoots out. "Please."

"I was sixteen--"

"Yeah, so was I Theodore but I had enough common sense to string someone along for an entire year." You sighed, shaking your head. "What do you want from me Theodore? I just don't understand."

"I want you to let me show you that I've grown Y/N. Look, I know that I took you for granted and I'm sorry that it took you leaving for me to realize that I need to show that I cared--"

"I accept your apology Theodore, I do."

"You do?"

You were never really the one to hold grudges and Theodore was aware of that, so you didn't understand the shock behind his eyes. Of course, you didn't hate Theodore, no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Your mind would always flashback to Theodore's confessions to you, how broken he was and how that might be the reason he treated you the way he did. Back then that excuse made sense, now it was almost laughable; Theodore's trauma wasn't the reason he behaved so nonchalantly towards you, he did it because he wanted to and thought you would never stand against it.

"Of Course."

With that you stand to your feet, grabbing onto your frappe. You sent Theodore a small smile, mainly because you were leaving him to pay your bill, before walking out of the Bistro.

The week that you promised your mother that you spend with her went by in a flash. Hopefully by this time tomorrow you’d be inside of your Flat in Rome, laying on your couch and binge watching your favorite muggle series.

But at this time today you were standing in the corner of a crowded party, watching as Pansy Parkinson basically dry-humped Draco on the dance floor.

Pansy spent the entire day with you doing meaningless nostalgic stuff that the two of you did during your time at Hogwarts. You didn’t understand why she decided to hang out with you your last day but the answer came to you eventually when she mentioned a party being thrown tonight in honor of Blaise Zabini’s 20th birthday. She knew you were more likely to go had she been in your face pleading rather than her asking over the phone.

There were numerous of reason why you didn’t want to attend tonight’s party. For starters you knew there was a good chance you’d see people you attended Hogwarts with and they’d question you about your disappearance. That was a conversation that you’d rather avoid because you knew they already assumed it had everything to do with Theodore Nott. Secondly, you knew that this party would consume of nothing but Slytherin’s which you had nothing in common with but having wealthy pureblood supremacist parents. And your last reason was shamelessly staring right at you over the brim of their red cup.

You learned a long time ago that Wherever there was Blaise Zabini there was Theodore Nott not to far behind. So when Pansy mentioned the get together you automatically began spewing up excuses of not wanting to go that didn’t include the tall brunette. You were so determined on not going but there was apart of you that felt guilty; You just disappeared and now you were declining her offer to hang out because of your own selfish reasons.

And that’s you ended up here, standing in the corner watching as Draco and Pansy danced while being eyed like prey.

Theodore’s staring makes you nervous in undeniable ways… so nervous that you feel the sudden urge to use the bathroom. You almost felt pathetic, you weren’t sixteen years old anymore so why would you get so nervous over a look? Sighing softly you turned on your feet and made your way to the restroom. According to Pansy the party was being thrown in Blaise’s flat but you’d considered it more of a penthouse than flat. It peered over the beautiful city of London, giving you in sight of what was taking place on the streets.

It takes you about five minutes to handle your business inside of the lavatory. Before stepping out you fix yourself up, ensuring that you don’t look as nervous as you feel. When you pulled the door open, hands still damp from your wash a gasp left your lips at the unexpected figure standing in front of the door.

“Why are you following me?” You grumbled lowly.

“This is my home, Y/N. I’ll go anywhere I please without being questioned.” Theodore’s snappy tone makes your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Whatever.”

You tried to move out of the bathroom but Theodore just stepped in front of you. Your body shifted in the other direction and he blocked you once again. With squinted eyes you stared up at him once again, “What do you want?”

Theodore took a step closer to you, reducing the space between the two of you until there was none left. For some reason you were stuck, not being able to take a step back to open the space again. Goosebumps rise across your skin, being this close to Theodore did something unexpected to your body. You were scared, knowing that despite your rejection of giving him another chance that you’d allow Theodore to take you on right here if he did the right thing.

“I miss you.”

You sighed deeply, “Theodore we don’t need to keep having this conversat--"

“But we do because you don’t believe me.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe that Theodore Nott missed you in the past three years.. it’s that you knew you shouldn’t believe that Theodore Nott missed you. You couldn’t understand what else the brunette could want from you, He’d taken your pride, dignity, and ability to want anyone else but him. And here he was standing with desire laced in his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Theodore gently said, taking your hand inside of his. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and looked away, feeling the pace of your heart pick up immediately at his convincing words. Theodore quickly grabbed onto your face and turned you back to meet his low green eyes.

“Please Y/N?”

“You’re gonna hurt me again!” You shouted in an unfamiliar tone. “Why are you doing this? Why do you keep doing this?” Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes and your fingers tried to pry his hands off of you but he wouldn’t budge. “You’re so Selfish!”

Theodore had always been self when it comes down to you. Freaking out when you made other male friends, playing the hot and cold game, But this right here was another degree of selfishness coming from him—Theodore knew that he hurt you horribly and that you’ve spent the past three years trying to get over from that hurt. So for him to come after realizing that he could not in fact find someone better than you.. it was selfish.

“I know.” He admits.

A single tear slipped from your eyes, recalling the pain from everything that Theodore had put you through and the fact that you still loved him. It hurts your mind, your body, and your soul. Theodore’s quick in swiping the tear away from the skin of your cheek, you found it funny that after all of these years he was still able to wipe away the tears that he caused. Suddenly, He shushed your quiet cries by pressing his soft lips against yours.

And Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the taste of the brunette back on your lips. While your mind was telling you to push him away, telling you to stop him, but the way that he kissed you made your body crave otherwise.

Perhaps that’s why you’re eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist when he reached underneath your knees to pick you up. You gasped when his hard erection pressed against his lower half and with your mouth opened Theodore takes his chance to slide his entire tongue inside of your mouth.

The two of you continued your sloppy make out session as he carried you inside of his bedroom. After this all of your built up self-respect from the past three might as well go down the drain and truthfully you’re not sure that you cared. Your legs felt weak from arousal when Theodore sat down on his bed with you straddling him.

You gasped from pleasure when his mouth trailed down your neck. Theodore’s kisses were filled with desperation and you could tell how much he wanted you. While one of his hand he lifted your hips up and the other flys to the button of his pants. Sometimes you got annoyed with Theodore’s lack of foreplay during the heat of the moment.. but right now all you wanted was for him to be inside of you.

Need filled your stomach to the brim while your hands yanked your dress up and pulling your underwear to the side. Drool nearly slipped past your lips when you caught glimpse of Theodore’s freed thick cock, precum leaking from the tip.

His lips caught yours in a kiss again, a moan slipped past your lips when he begins rubbing the tip of himself against you a few time, collecting your wetness.

Before you could brace yourself he was pushing the head of himself inside, the familiar stretch has your body burning and your legs practically spasming.

“Stay still, Y/L/N” Theodore groaned.

Although you wanted to listened to him you just couldn’t. Truthfully, you hooked with a couple of euro boys but they didn’t even half-compare to Theodore Nott. The pleasure spreading across your body has your head spinning.

“Goodness, I’ve missed you so much.” Theodore grunted huskily. “Ugh--I hate it when you keep this away from me.” The pace of him thrusting into you picked up and the sharp pain of his fingernails digging into your skin as he kept your waist in place wasn’t even noticeable,

You’ve missed this so much.

Your fingers slide up from Theodore’s frame, you placed your hands around his face and he shuddered. An unexpected vulnerability filled his eyes while he moaned that almost caused you to close yours. You were token aback by it, your walls fluttering around him.

“I won’t hurt you again.”

“Theodore… Please--,” You gasped, barely catching your breath to speak to him. “--Don’t.”

You couldn’t handle hearing Theodore’s pillow-talk right now. Him lying about going to be better was something you couldn’t handle..Something that this intimate moment couldn’t handle. Your eyes fell close when he pulled you in for another wet open-mouthed kiss.

“Don’t what?” He hummed.

Theodore ran his hand through your hair. You couldn’t form a response, truthfully you’d forgotten that the brunette even asked you something. But clearly that didn’t please him because Theodore suddenly rolled the two of you over. Your body was now pinned underneath him, completely vulnerable to whatever strokes he wanted to give you.

And clearly they weren’t nice ones…

Suddenly, there was a change in Theodore’s thrusting. It was rougher, animalistic almost. You weakly pushed against his stomach, small whimpers leaving your lips at every hateful thrust he gave you.

“Look at me,” He growled, grabbing onto your neck and forcing you to look at him. The way that Theodore drives himself into you has your eyes watering, tears streaming down your face, so he was a bit blurry. “Don’t do what?”

The hard squeeze that he gives your throat has you spiraling. You hiccuped, eyes rolling in the back of your head, toes flexing as you came.

“Yeah, Just like that.” Theodore begins guiding you through your orgasm, thrust becoming deeper yet still rough.

“--Theo,” You panted his name.

“Yeah, Theo.” He mocked you. “That’s who’s fucking You.”

Despite you being stuck underneath him, you squirmed at his tone. You already sensed the possessive words he’s about to spew and you’re sure it would send you cumming once again.

“That’s who’s always gonna fuck you, Y/N. Me.” He practically growled in your face, forcing you to keep eye contact with him.

“You don’t wanna hear that I’m sorry? I don’t care because you need to, I’m sorry that it took me this long to realize it but I do love you.”

You moaned but it was overpowered by the sound of Theodore moaning in your ears. Overstimulation filled your body as Theodore finally came undone, spilling his cum inside of you. Your fingernails dig deep into his back while he snapped his hips at yours, drilling his release deep inside of you.

With a grunt, Theodore smashed his mouth against yours in a sensual kiss. He mummers against your mouth, “I’m gonna change, I promise.”

taglist: @jeyusosgirl @rae-pottah @abeltownshipslittlebitch

[anisespice]

“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 2

one

synopsis: " you can pick me or your little boy. "

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!), enabling behavior, mild violence, vague descriptions of sex (cause i’m lazy), vulgar language, corny marvel joke, dirty-talk, moral compass is a roulette wheel in this one lol and i think that’s it :P 

notes: did a little continuation of the first one before doing more characters lol i’m happy you guys liked the concept, lemme know who you’d like to see next :))) i don’t hate this one, but i don’t love it either (except maybe mikey’s) buuuut hope yall enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05​

A week had passed since the whole kick-back fiasco, and MIKEY had gone awol. Aki was over the moon about it, for obvious reasons; as far as he was concerned, he scared him off. Besides, the less you hung around the delinquent, the better for both of you.

“That guy’s just a nuisance, babe. Good riddance.”

Little did he know, this was a regular occurrence. Mikey always did this—Disappeared for days on end, only to pop right back up like he never left. Whether it be due to gang related issues, or because he felt like it, this frustrating habit was one of the reasons you invited him that night, despite knowing he’d pick a fight with Aki. You had missed him…in more ways than one. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to you.

And in the wee hours of the night, not far after said boyfriend left your place, you received a lone message from the former blonde himself.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:03pm     “ omw. ”

Short, but effective. His timing was impeccable, how he always managed to text the second you were alone was beyond you, but it made your heart race all the same. It was wrong, you knew that, Aki deserved better than someone who snuck around. You didn’t mean for it to get this far, but that was a guilt you’d deal with later. Mikey was your drug of choice, and tonight you craved another fix.

to : bad influence ♡ 11:07pm       “ okay. but just for a little while. ”

Even if you tried to play coy, to salvage whatever weak moral you had left, it didn’t matter—The only one you were fooling tonight was Aki.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:08pm      “ mhm. sure, angel. ”

It was a wonder how you didn’t draw blood with how harshly you clawed at his shoulders, fighting between wanting him closer or wanting to push him away. Mikey didn’t mind, though. On the contrary, he encouraged you to leave marks. As tempted as he was to leave his own, he figured beating up your insides would suffice.

Knowing you’ll struggle to walk tomorrow was all the reward he needed.

“God—fuuck,” he slurred, after a particularly hard thrust made you arch off the bed, forcing him to sink deeper. He gazed down at you with an all too pleased grin as you begged him for more. How could he deny you when you sounded so desperate? “Taking me so well, angel…always so good f’me…”

“J-Jiro..! Ahplease!” You sobbed, your knees practically knocking upside your temples as he increased momentum. Mikey snickered, angling his hips to continue ramming the spot that made your eyes cross, moans reaching octaves you didn’t even know you could hit.

“Mm, been feening for this dick, huh? Yeah? Maybe we should call up that smug bastard, let ‘em see how such good friends we are, right [______]? Bet he was real proud thinkin’ he got me to fuck off…but we both know who you really belong to. Don’t we?”

He wasn’t sorry. That’s the short end of it.

The moment Takeru decided to act all big and bad, breaking stuff in a place where he paid no bills, it was in DRAKEN’s right to set him straight; mama may not have raised him, but he still ain’t no bitch.

It took some coaxing on your end, but you were able to reel Draken back from turning your boyfriend inside out. But, after he forced him to pick up every broken piece of the lamp, he told Takeru to choose a number between one and ten.

“…Why?” Was his response. Draken raised a brow.

“That’s how many shards I’m gonna shove up your nose.”

“Ken!”

The look on the shorter male’s face was worth it, earning a threatening smirk from the mechanic as he slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Ahh, y’look like you were about to shit yourself, man! Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

For a moment, there’s relief in your boyfriend’s eyes. It was short-lived, of course. Especially once Draken’s grip tightened around his shoulder. “But I will. Don’t ever let me catch you pop off on [_____] like that again. Would hate for you to have to pick yourself up off the floor next time. You feel me?”

With a gulp, he gave a shaky nod; now he really looked like he shat himself. “Y-Yes…”

“Hah? Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes, Draken, sir?”

He rewarded the poor sucker’s obedience with a couple taps to the cheek just to spite him before sending him on his way. It was met with little protest, Takeru scurrying out of the room with lamp pieces still in his palms, not even sparing you a passing glance. 

“Text you later?” You called at his retreating form. When all you got was the sound of your front door slamming shut in response, you swiftly turned on your heel to aim a dejected frown at your other houseguest. Draken sardonically pouted back at you, reaching over to pinch your cheek until you swatted his hand away. “Why’d you do that, you totally freaked him out!” 

He wasn’t sorry. Draken shrugged. “Good.” 

Merely rolling your eyes, you headed for the small broom and dustpan in your closet to gather what little pieces Takeru left behind–Might as well busy yourself to delay addressing the elephant still in the room. Unfortunately, said elephant wasn’t about to let that happen. Before you could even think of sweeping anything, Draken gently grabbed your elbow, those same eyes that stared death into your boyfriend’s soul now filled with something else as they appraised you, melting through whatever cold exterior you tried to aim at him.

He leaned down closer, sporting a slanted grin that sent signals straight down to your core. Sometimes, you despised how easily he made your insides flutter by just existing.

“How much longer y’gonna entertain that fucking loser, huh? He wouldn’t know the first thing about handling someone like you.”

You hummed, fighting the giddy tremble in your body at the challenging air that surrounded you both. With the inkling of boldness you had, you took the bait. “What, like you would?”

He wasn’t sorry; you’d be though.

The way Draken split you in half would make Lucifer himself bite the pillow. Hovering over his gigantic frame, chest bare with your hands perched on each pec, he manhandled you to take every unforgiving inch of his dick, having you feeling downright discombobulated as your hips struggled to keep momentum.

Forget about seeing stars, at some point, you were certain you saw into the quantum realm; say hi to Ant-Man for me.

“K-Kenny...I can’t...t’s too much!” 

He cooed up at you, though there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. If anything, Draken enjoyed himself thoroughly, tongue-in-cheek as he watched you fall apart in his lap, just like he knew you would. With the way you tightened up around him like a vice, as if your own body was against the thought of him stopping, the former blonde chuckled breathlessly.

“Use the safe word then, doll.”

You glared down at him, to the best of your ability. With him practically jabbing you in the lung, it was more than difficult to say the rebuttal as smartly as you wanted to. “Y-you think…you’re so-oh! So f-funny…”

He did. Absolutely he did. By making your boyfriend’s name the safe word, nothing would soften his dick quicker. Plus, he knew you didn’t need it; just like you didn’t need Takeru.

“What? It’d be the only way you’d ever scream it anyways.”

“Welcome back.”

You paused mid-step upon entering your apartment, not expecting the ravenette to still be there. With a deep exhale, you paid him no mind as you kicked off your shoes, irritated after a tiresome process of checking your boyfriend into the hospital.

To say BAJI did a number on him would be an understatement…Man’s fucked him up. Sure, maybe Makoto could’ve watched his tone when talking to someone with such a short fuse, but Baji could’ve at least exercised a little restraint.

…Oh, who were you kidding? It’s Baji.

“What, ya not talkin’ to me?” Barely sparing him a glance, you set your bag on the coffee table before heading for the bedroom for a much-needed shower. Baji didn’t take kindly to being ignored. He huffed, standing to meet you halfway as he trailed behind you. Even when you attempted to close the door in his face, he shouldered his way in anyway; it was gonna take more than that to deter him.

“Quit being mad…said I was sorry, damn.”

“No you didn’t,” you replied, incredulously. You really tried it with the silent treatment, but knowing him, it was only a matter of seconds before he'd get you talking again. Taking off the sweats you threw on in haste earlier, you continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘Talk shit, get hit,’ then fell asleep on the couch while I had to haul Makoto to the emergency room!”

Baji shuffled his feet, “…Well, I meant to say it. Jus' forgot.”

You scoffed, walking into your bathroom. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have someone else's day to shit on?”

“Y’kicking me out now?” He teased, raising a brow. What he didn't expect was for you to start throwing your toiletries at him. Although his reflexes saved him for the most part, Baji still got hit a few times as he attempted to dodge between a shampoo bottle and mouthwash. "Whoa! Hey-!"

“Maybe I should! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him in and out of my car with all that dead weight, let alone into the building? Not to mention, his emergency contacts were his uppity-ass parents, so after they chewed me out, I had to lie and say he saved me from getting mugged.”

“...They buy it?”

You tilted your head, exasperated. "Wow. And here I thought the next thing out of your mouth would be that apology you 'forgot' to say earlier…[Sigh] Whatever. You just better hope when Makoto wakes up he doesn't remember anything, or else we're both in deep shit."

“Tsk. The fuck’s he gonna do?”

“He could literally sue us.” You deadpanned.

“He’s a pussy, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try me again. And if he gives you any shit for it, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you mean like how you did today? Pass.”

He groaned, “I said sorry!”

“No you didn’t! And still haven’t!”

At the moment, it felt like the conversation would just continue in circles. With Baji stubbornly claiming he was in the right, and you combating his warped logic with colorful language and more stuff thrown at him, it's a wonder how things ended up here–With your face pressed against the cold shower wall as he gave you his fucking apology.

Over, and over, and over again.

While one hand wrapped around the column of your throat, fingers shoved knuckle-deep into your mouth to pacify the excessive whines tumbling out, the other made use of gripping the meat of your thigh, giving you no chance of running from the punishing thwap of his hips ramming against your wet ass-cheeks. The water cascading over your bodies had long turned cold as Baji chased after orgasm number five, his muscles ached from the strain, but he'd be damned to stop until he was certain all was forgiven.

Even if it meant missing every single one of Makoto's phone calls.

“God, I am so, so sorry, Takashi. Can’t believe he just…I-I’ve never seen him act like that before. Does it hurt?”

MITSUYA, despite the sting in his split lip, gave you an easy grin. “Nah, y’know I’ve been through worse. Fucker hits like one of my younger sisters.”

You had brought him back to your place to ice the bruise forming on his jaw, still frazzled over what occurred in the last half hour. Back at the restaurant, everything seemed fine when you excused yourself to the bathroom, having a blast knowing that your two favorite people were actually getting along. Unbeknownst to you, there was a storm brewing in Hajime. And the second you were out of sight, he used this opportunity to set a record straight with Mitsuya.  

Evidently, he allowed his fists to do the talking. 

You groaned, rubbing down your face in distress. “We’ll probably never get to set foot in that restaurant again...’m so embarrassed.”

“Hey,” he softly reprimanded, “Don’t sweat it, t’s not your fault-”

“I’m the one who begged you to let him come with us in the first place. I mean, I know you two butt heads from time to time, but I didn’t think it’d ever turn that serious. Please, Taka, just tell me what happened.”

Mitsuya shook his head, about to lower the ice pack until you shot him a pointed look. With a small exhale through his nose, he kept it on his jaw while he spoke. “I told you, he was probably pissed he couldn’t get a free meal outta me-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Haji wouldn’t explode like that over a fucking chicken sandwich.” You huffed, frustrated at his evasive behavior. He was holding back information on purpose, you were certain. Ever since the fitting, he'd been acting weird all evening. And that fight only solidified your suspicions. “Just tell me what started it!” 

"Doesn’t matter."

"Taka-"

"Let it go, [______]." He laid back on your couch and made himself comfortable, even so much as turning on your tv to fill over the dead conversation. Mitsuya trained his eyes on the lit-up screen, still icing his jaw as he subtly avoided eye contact.

You could just scream.

Childishly, you snatched the remote from his hand and switched it back off. The lavender haired threw his head back in defeat, the hand holding the ice pack slowly coming down as Mitsuya eyed you from his peripheral; so stubborn.

“Be honest. It was about me again, wasn’t it?” His silence spoke volumes. “So it was then. Ugh, okay listen, I get that you’re both really protective of me, I do, but that doesn’t excuse-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You choked. Though, only on your words.

With that now hanging up in the air, you gaped like a damn goldfish, the remote slipping out your grasp and clambering to the floor with a clack. Mitsuya exhaled; no turning back now. “You…huh?”

“Yep. Have been for a while, actually.” He placed his arms behind the couch, wry smirk on his face. “Planned to tell you over dinner tonight, but that backfired fast, no thanks to that walking steroid you call a boyfriend.”

“Y-…You’re messing with me. Right?” The designer offered a humorless laugh, gesturing to his split lip and bruised jaw.

“Didn’t get hit for saying what a great pal you were, [______].”

Now it was your turn to be silent. A lump began to form in your throat, overwhelmed with the newfound information, borderline confession.

“So then…what did you say to Haji to make him so angry?”

For a split second, you saw a glint within his pools of amethyst as they slowly rendered to a deep violet. Staring at you from beneath his pretty lashes, Mitsuya resembled that of a starved animal on the verge of cornering its prey, causing a sudden warmth to envelop you as you squirmed under his heady gaze.

Sitting up a little, he merely beckoned you to his empty lap. You blinked widely at him, sputtering as you tried to protest the idea. But, what he said next played into your curiosity.

“C’mere, and I’ll show you.”

You blinked at him, uncertain; he made no move to rush you. If you were against the idea, you were more than welcome to decline and tell him to shove it. However, when you eventually crawled into the awaiting throne, settling all your weight on top of him to the point he couldn’t keep from groaning shamelessly, Mitsuya was fucking elated.

You gripped his shirt at the shoulders, sporting that signature pout you’d do whenever you wanted something from him—The designer was more than ready to give it to you. All you had to do was say so.

“Hajime’s gonna kill you if he finds out, though. Don’t want you getting hurt again because of me…”

Mitsuya chuckled, hands slowly rubbing up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. He may have gotten two hits on me today, but all I need is one tomorrow.”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.   likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[marshedmallowes]

miguel as pseudo big brother to a reader kinda similar to miles? i was thinking abt that one scene in the first movie when sp//dr broke down and noir carried peni n started feening for platonic miguel 🥹🥹

MIGUEL O'HARA as a big brother figure

yes sorry kinda evil gif choice. anyway listen it is literally my second day on the job so i'm so sorry if miguel is ooc in Any way

despite being such a stoic on the outside, miguel would lowkey have a soft spot for you. he is a big man with a big wall but damn are you so good at climbing over that damn wall

think those tiktoks of how miguel would have a soft spot for mayday and like burst into tears at her sight but he hides it for you bcus he needs to act Cool™ around the team.

he wouldn't outwardly show affection through physical touch or anything, but the GESTURES !! OH THE GESTURES !!

his love languages are definitely gift giving and acts of service!!

also he struggles in communicating his appreciation for you directly but you can definitely see it through the small acts he does for you everyday, like taking the time to check on your mental state every other day (he's trying his best okay).

if he's passing by the cafeteria to get an empanada or something as a snack, he's also buying a whole meal for you whether you like it or not. if you already had lunch he does Not care and you will take it.

he definitely does push you harder, but only because he knows you're capable of so much.

As you run your errands in spider-society, somehow balancing your bio homework that was due the next hour along with the numerous tasks assigned against the multiversal anomalies popping up everywhere. Overwhelmed was an understatement for how you were feeling—that's when a notif popped up on your watch, summoning you to Miguel's spidercave (whatever they call it). "What is it this time?" You say begrudgingly, a little pissed off that your own damn boss summoned you while you were so busy. "Have you forgotten about your own task report? The one issued around a week ago?" Miguel doesn't even face you properly, face obstructed by his countless computer screens. Well, looks like this isn't even worth his damn time.

Sighing, you shuffle through your backpack, past the textbooks and random pens and trinkets before finding a crumpled sheet of paper that you pass to him. "...And can you tell me exactly what this means?" Miguel attempts to smoothen out the report to not much avail, and your unintelligible writing is... something for sure. "Well, so ya see—" What would've been your explanation was cut off by a loud rumble, originating from your stomach. GLRLGLRGLRLGLRGLRLGLR. "..."

"......."

After what could've been the most awkward silence in your life, Miguel finally breaks the ice with a question you didn't really have an answer to.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" "Um..." —Your stomach threatened to roar again— "Like, yesterday night..." "And do you know what time it is?" "....4 in the afternoon? "Ay, coño..." Miguel mutters to himself, as he presses two fingers to his forehead in disappointment.

"No, listen, it's just that I couldn't really eat because I had this biology thing that I had to finish today and I'm not really done with it yet and I hate bio and our teacher sucks and the anomalies too and—" "Okay, okay! I get it!" Your frantic attempts to defend yourself are then abruptly interrupted by the toss of a still-warm empanada container, along with a bottle of water stuck to it via spiderweb. Your eyes immediately brighten up at the sight of food, and your muscles tug into a smile at the man you were so fiercely defending yourself against two seconds ago. "Thank you, thank you!" When the hell did he get that and why save it for me? "Yeah, yeah. Just leave." Miguel spat out, a twinge of embarrassment showing through his features. As you waltz out the room, merienda* in hand, he watches you, not noticing the slight smile forming in his lips.

*merienda is like a snack you eat midway through the afternoon! since its 4pm i thought that was much more fitting than like dinner or something

shoutout to vyn (@prinzevyn) for the help w miguel's character!! unfortunately not awake to beta read aaaAaahhh......

[orbitariums]

( in the accent of a suburban blk girlie ) dhmu just thinking ab being art and patrick's joint pretty little thing and they're both like hah ! art/patrick could never score a girl like this, she's different from every woman ive ever met ( black as hell, boujie as hell, BUILT as hell ), he doesn't have it like me. and then all of a sudden they both find themselves at a mostly black club she frequents and posts ab on myspace a lot and they both find themselves giving her flirty, llustful looks across the dance floor at her, go to give eachother a 'hah you could never pull all that' look and realize they're both doing the same thing and then realizing that you could pull any little frat-esque, trust funded white boy you wanted and they LOCK TF IN on proving they could treat and fuck you best

- 🎹

all that | artrick + black reader

literally obsessed with this request piano anon ... thissss is universe-building and i LOVEEEE to cross cultures >:-) also, made this playlist to fit the vibe (tried to keep it 2006 themed but haddd to throw some cash cobain in there — his new album is also perfect to listen to for this)

contains: a FINE black GYAL, art + patrick feening they ain't never BEEN with a baddie, smut: fingering, oral (f! receiving), threesome i realize i could've made this a drabble but i'm a writer. so imma write. so i hope y'all fw this! word count: 7.7k and not proofread

It's giving Stanford era Art and Patrick — Art feels like he has dibs on you because he met you first and takes a few classes with you. Unlike Patrick, Art prides himself on being your friend — even though you've really only interacted through class projects, and Art hardly has the courage to talk to you outside of class.

You're different from anybody Art or Patrick have wanted in the past. Stanford opened up a door to a whole new world for them — a world outside of rich white girls who spent their summers in the Hamptons or elite tennis camps. and you were the key holder. you were hands-down the most stunning girl they'd ever seen. For Art, it was the Marley twists that reached your butt (a staple hairstyle of yours when you weren't rotating from lace fronts to sew-ins to natural), the way your brown eyes glimmered when a ray of sun shone over you through the window.

For Patrick it was your lips, thick and glossy or perfectly painted with a brown lip combo — gawking at you in the cafeteria when he visits and watching you reapply your lip gloss after you eat might be his favorite pastime.

Once, Patrick literally groaned, throwing his head back with a hand on his forehead when you bent over to pick up your lip liner, then readjusted your jeans and did that little jump trying to fit your ass properly back in the pants. Art couldn't even call him out on it because it took everything in him to hold back a whimper.

Your skin was supple and a rich brown, soft like a pillow they wanted to sink into. everything about you was something to admire — your laugh, the certainty in your voice whenever you spoke, your graceful yet assertive demeanor. You knew who you were, and that was something lacking from all the Sarahs and Kaylors and Brittanys they had been with. And, satisfying their basest desires, was your stallion body. tall, thick, and fit.

"She's so pretty," Art blinked slowly, the two of them watching you from a distance in the library as you gathered with a group of friends, standing around a table and giggling softly.

"Her ass is so fat. I've never seen anything like that shit before," Patrick murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were concerned— really he was just incredulous.

A beat as Art swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. Ignoring the way his pants grew tighter. Patrick doing the same.

"Yeah," he exhaled after a moment of silence and low-eyed ogling from the two of them.

It was weeks of that — just gawking at you and getting themselves worked up thinking about you. At that point, there was more sexual tension between Art and Patrick than either of the two lusting boys had managed to work up with you. Tashi found their fantasizing aggravating and berated them for not just going up to you and talking to you — secretly, Art and Patrick praised the fact that Tashi has a girlfriend, otherwise she'd be competition too.

Art practically fainted when he saw you in the hallway talking to Patrick— Patrick leaning against the wall with his hand just above his head, towering over you with the confidence of a sly dog. He could just make out the murmurs of your conversation, the warm ringing of your laugh, Patrick's flirtatious chuckling overlapping just a few seconds later. He was laying it on thick, and Art felt like he might go into cardiac arrest with how angry he was.

Art strode up to the two of you with determination, slowing down once he gets closer so he doesn't come off as defensive as he felt. He gave Patrick an icy, tight-lipped grin that made Patrick smirk ever-so-slightly, his eyes wandering to some spot just above Art's head.

"Pat," Art bleated. He turned to you, his eyes softening along with his brain and everything else in his body except his dick. He smiled gently, locking eyes with you. "YN. It's nice to see you. I'm Art, by the way."

You shook your head and chuckled, one of your braids drifting over your shoulder. You pushed it back, and Art and Patrick went numb at the simple maneuver. You bit down softly on your bottom lip, grinning bemusedly,

"I know who you are. We did like two chem projects together, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, remember?" Patrick echoed, glancing over smugly at Art, who was too enamored by you to side-eye Patrick in return.

"Yeah. Yeah of course I remember. You were the backbone of our projects," Art trailed off into a genuine laugh, one full of appreciation.

"Well, I am pre-med, so," a slight laugh bubbled up in your throat and it was so attractive and confident, Art couldn't help but grin at you dazedly.

"Smart girl," Patrick inserted himself, catching your eye as soon as you turned your head to him again.

You didn't miss the way he held eye contact, the way he was so comfortable giving you a name to hold on to, like it was something he was used to doing with you. There's some sort of intimacy to a nickname like that, suggesting something provocative yet impossible to name. You're well aware of the fact that they're both attracted to you — you couldn't possibly miss them staring at you even when you knew they thought they were being discreet.

Seeing them now, up close and personal, finally actually talking to you instead of checking you out and avoiding eye contact, you saw their strategies, their archetypes. Art, the charming and unassuming rabbit — assumed timid by most but smart and eventually crafty — and Patrick, the rakish, bold fox, unabashed in his cunning and willing to show out. Both types that you'd seen before, but not quite in this form. And both intrigued you deeply. You, the snake. Letting them have their glory in this game now, but plotting just how you would leer over them soon enough, evaluating your prey.

"Gotta be. I only get one chance," you replied to Patrick's comment.

You could tell he was used to having girls stuck, and you weren't that type. But with you, their eagerness and need to prove themselves was strong right away.

You could tell they were trying to figure out what to say. You figured they were used to girls giggling and blushing over them. Maybe they expected a thank you, complete with hair twirling and bashfulness, like you didn't already know you were smart, fine, and everything in between.

"Mkay," you hummed, smiling precociously up at them. "I'm gonna hit the library, got a bio exam next week. I'll see you both later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll see us," Art assured you immediately, on top of Patrick drawling,

"We'll be on the lookout."

You chuckled, giving them one last look over your lashes before you turned around. You could feel their eyes on you as they left, tracking all the way down to your hips which swayed as you walked.

They watched you like that all the way out the double doors, in a trance. When the door finally closed, Art swiveled on his feet and jabbed Patrick in the shoulder, walking off dramatically. Patrick caught up to him quickly.

"What the fuck? What's that for?" he whined.

"What the hell man, you can't just talk to her," Art frowned.

Patrick paused, staring at Art like he was a middle schooler,

"I just did. Besides, it's not like you were talking to her anyway, I did us both a favor."

Art knew he was being petulant but he couldn't himself — he didn't mind admiring you with Patrick, but sharing you was a whole 'nother thing. He wasn't ready to admit that the thought turned him on, and the attraction was still fresh enough that he was possessive. Maybe the doors would open once he knew he could get you.

"Yeah, well I was gonna."

"Ha!" Patrick barked out a cold laugh. "Like that'd get you anywhere."

"Fuck does that mean?" Art scoffed, glaring at his best friend and lamenting the luscious mop of overgrown dark curls brushing against his forehead.

Patrick tapped the underbrim of Art's red hat, which Art quickly readjusted,

"Look at you. You're dressed like a skinny white cuck. You don't even know what to do with all that." Patrick was growing more and more defensive and loud by the minute. He shook his head and glared off into the distance like he was thinking of just how he'd handle "all that," then continued. "She wants a big dog."

Art actually laughed — he genuinely doubled over laughing, and Patrick marched along while Art was cackling a few feet behind. He caught up to Patrick, red in the face,

"And you're a big dog? You're a rich white Jew from Rochester, New York."

Patrick smirked, like he knew something Art didn't — but when does he not know everything before Art has even gotten a hint? Or at least, he pretends to know everything. Art wasn't sure if it was too late to come out from under Patrick's wing, it's all he knew.

"Exactly," Patrick responded quietly.

Art, miffed but trying not to show it, switched the trajectory of the conversation and shook his head. He offered the first reality check ever since this little crush had formed,

"Don't sound too sure of yourself. I don't think either of us are her type."

"C'mon Art, don't be racist. You think she only likes black guys?"

Art was ruffled— he retorted,

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever, I got her Myspace. I'll give it to you so you can stalk her but don't actually follow her like a creep. You're welcome, dumbass. You can thank me for bringing you a step forward from jerking your tiny little dick while you think of her alone in your dorm room."

How the fuck did he get her Myspace?

| | |

Patrick was back again by next week, fooling around on the computer while Art laid back on his bed and bounced a tennis ball against the ceiling.

"Oh shit," Patrick muttered to himself, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. Art perked up, sitting up on his elbows.

"What?"

"Come look," Patrick waved Art over.

On the computer screen was your Myspace, which you just updated few minutes ago.

[ YN ] Can't wait to hit up Nebula later tonight!

"What's Nebula?" Art asked, his voice quiet and curious as he squinted at the glowing screen.

Patrick wordlessly pulled up another tab and typed up Nebula. It was a club a few miles north of campus. It had no description but a bunch of pictures. It was different from what they were used to — frat parties consisting of fist bumping and neon necklaces, a sea of white crashed against the floor and someone shotgunning a can of Budweiser. Instead, they're looking at photos of a nightclub with flashy lights and graffiti decor, and not a single hint of white — at least, not in any of the pictures. But it looks busy, and as far as they can tell, it actually looks fun.

Patrick and Art scanned the page of images meticulously, it was like their brains were reconfiguring. After some time, they both speak at once:

"Should we go?"

"We're fucking going."

The boys spent the next few hours getting ready. Or at least, Art did. Patrick didn't have a change of clothes, so he was going as he was — untucked Ralph polo, khaki shorts and all. Art on the other hand, showered and rotated through multiple outfits. By his third shirt, Patrick was fatigued,

"What are you doing?"

Art held up a white t-shirt to the mirror and angled it against his body,

"I don't wanna show up looking like an asshole. Look at you, what are you wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Patrick griped, though he did a double take at himself behind Art in the mirror.

"Did you not see how everyone was dressed in the pictures? We're gonna look like idiots if we show up like a bunch of tennis douchebags," Art retorted, finally deciding on a white shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"We are tennis douchebags," Patrick said to himself. "Got a pair of black jeans I can wear?"

Art smirked wordlessly, throwing a pair over to Patrick.

The club is packed, to say the least. But it's huge. The bouncer took a long, hard look at the two boys before graciously deciding to let them in. They did look painfully out of place — the club seemed not to have a white person in sight for miles. They were tokens here, not oblivious to the curious looks and outright glares. Chingy's Right Thurr was blasting from the club speakers, booming over the sound of Air Force 1s and chunky heels scuffling across the floor. Art and Patrick stood in the front, taking in the view of the dance floor like a pair of birds overlooking the sea from the shore.

"What if she's not even here?" Art muttered.

"She's here dude, trust me. No way she's staying in on a Friday night after exams and this is clearly the place to go," Patrick shouted over the music. The two silently scanned over the crowd, desperate to pick her out in a sea of people. Then, Patrick laid eyes on her. He jabbed Art's side, who immediately snapped his vision to focus on you, so far away on the dance floor, unaware of their presence.

You were in a tight-fitting short pink dress that hugged every inch of your body — it seemed like it was made for you. Your tits sat pretty and your ass jiggled with even the slightest move. Your brown skin glinted under the flashing lights, and reflections shimmered off of your golden bracelets. You were with a group of friends, laughing and rolling your body to the beat, hips swaying with the motion of water. Patrick and Art were absolutely stuck, staring at you with dry mouths.

"Fuck," Art mouthed, and Patrick found his lips pulled beneath his teeth.

You didn't have a care in the world. You weren't drunk, but you had a few drinks in you and the bass was thudding against your eardrums just right. And you knew you looked good. Everything felt right — but the last thing you expected to see when you turned your head was two white boys, especially not two white boys who you knew. They seemed to realize that they were caught once you made eye contact with them, squinting at first in confusion.

Then, you saw it, the lustful look in both of their eyes. Patrick was unabashedly checking you out — you were sure he was doing it before, but now it was like he wanted you to know. And Art had this look in his eyes, so deep and watchful that you could tell he was simply drinking you in. Arms tucked over his chest, his tongue swiping slowly over his lip.

You giggled, returning their gazes with a subtly flirtatious cock of your head, and a bemused grin. Patrick smiled and nodded, and Art cocked his head in unison with you. Like he was playing. And you liked this game. You turned to your friends for just a moment and quickly excused yourself, then turned back to face the two boys, glancing towards the bar.

You didn't wait for them, just started slowly sauntering over, knowing they would follow you.

Once you broke their gaze, they turned to each other, smirking. On the one hand, they knew they had an in. But they were challenging each other too, with a competitive spark in their eyes that said, "you wish."

They rushed over to the bar, practically skidding across the bar and even bumping into each other. They got there just seconds before you did, still catching their breaths by the time you got close enough. Before you could even open your mouth, both of them were panting. In unison, they spouted,

"Hey—"

"Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

They glared at each other, and you laughed, shaking your head. They were practically brothers, the way they were so in sync with each other and seemed to bounce off of one another. It was fun analyzing their characters, and even more fun because they were trust fund babies without a care in the world, and you couldn't be any more different. But one thing was for certain — you could get anything from them.

"That's y'all's favorite question, isn't it?" you grinned up at them slowly, batting your lashes.

They both laughed weakly, not used to being called out so bluntly. They were so set on having you, but now that you were in front of them, it was clear you made the rules. The way you assessed them both silently, letting your eyes observe the both of them from head to toe, slowly but surely, they had no choice but to stand at your feet.

"How about this," you started, and they perked up like dogs, hanging on to your every word. "Whoever guesses my drink of choice can buy me a drink."

"Sex on the beach," Patrick blurted, mainly because he was thinking about sex.

"Vodka cran?" Art offered hesitantly.

You squint at them, shaking your head.

"Cognac, neat."

Patrick snorted, and you looked over at him with a curious grin. He explained himself,

"Sorry, it's just... that's dark liquor."

"Duh. I don't waste my money on watered down cocktails." A pause. "So...?"

They fought to get drinks, but ultimately, Art was the one who flagged the bartender down first. You told them that you should talk somewhere a bit more quiet, and led them to a couch beneath the stairs, where the music was slightly muffled. You knew that their eyes were on you as you were walking, you could tell by the way they went silent while behind you.

You sat between them on the couch, one leg over the other. Both their mouths went dry over the sight of your thigh pooling and expanding as you placed it on top of your other one. Your brown skin contrasted deliciously with the pink fabric of your dress.

You sipped your drink and leaned back just a bit against the couch. Basking in their intent eye contact.

"So," you smirked.

"So..." Patrick grinned at you, unafraid to show all his teeth.

You glance between the two of them,

"It's your first time here, isn't it?"

"Whaaat?" Patrick feigned offense, shaking his head and waving his hand. He sips his drink, leaning back just a bit to align his body more with yours. "Psshh, no, we come here all the time."

"Really?" you challenged him, and he just nodded silently with that fucking smirk on his face, his eyes boring into yours with an impish sparkle. "'Cuz I come here all the time, and I haven't seen you two before. Like, ever."

"Guess you weren't looking for us hard enough," in comes Art, quiet as ever but still so strikingly present — it's impossible to forget him, the way he sneaks up on you every time with some suggestive comment or smart remark.

You turned your head towards him now, your smile growing bigger by the minute, thoroughly enthralled by this delicious dialogue.

"Oh, I should be looking for you two?'' you raised your chin up, humored.

"Nah, but I mean... you might find something you like," Patrick replied, coolly as ever, never looking away from you even when you weren't looking at him. It was how you found yourself face to face with him when you turned your head away from Art.

"Yeah? And what's that?" you mastered your most innocent voice possible, rubbing your glossy lips together. Patrick's eyes lowered down to your lips, and he let them stay there for a while before he spoke again,

"You gonna let us find out what you like?"

No smirk this time, accompanied by unshaken eye contact. It got your heart jumping, but you played it cool, chuckling and sipping your drink,

"Y'all play too much."

"Who says we're playing?" Art interjected then, and you're met with a charming, slow-appearing smile.

“Messy. You usually have the same taste in girls?"

"I mean, yeah, we do," the boys glanced at each other and nodded good-naturedly as if assessing the question together before providing you with an answer. "But you're just... better," Art replied, and Patrick nodded.

"Better? Better how?"

"I mean... you're incredibly sexy," Patrick said as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yeah? Tell me more," you bared your teeth in a slick-mouthed smile, leaning your chin on your hand and blinking softly up at Patrick. You turned your head slowly when Art spoke.

"Your lips. They look soft," he licked his lips when you looked at him. It was like he was a completely different entity now, shrouded by the thick cloud of desire he had for you. His voice had dropped an octave lower and his lids seemed heavier. He took a sip of Cognac and leaned back just a tad.

"Got a pretty voice," you turned this time to Patrick, whose lips were turning up in a slow smile, his teeth glinting in the dark club.

"Beautiful eyes," now Art — you knew you had them right around your finger but they were proving to be more than you'd bargained for — you wondered how often they moved like this to a girl, together.

"Your body's absolutely insane," Patrick divulged.

"Personality takes the cake, too," Art chimes in.

By the time they'd finished, it felt like they were inches closer to you, encasing you in their body heat. And they had inched closer to you, the both of them cocking their head in your direction, studying your face. It all felt so practiced, yet natural. They knew just what they were doing, and that's why you didn't move a muscle. But you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

You didn't reply, you just sat back and slowly swallowed down the rest of your drink. All eyes were on you, the boys both leaning back against the couch and just admiring you. You set the glass down on the table in front of you and got up to stand, wiggling your dress down to readjust it.

"Let's dance."

That's how you found yourself sandwiched between Art and Patrick while a song by Miguel played. Your breaths, hot and smelling of liquor, floated against each other, bodies pressed into yours. Patrick was behind you with his hands on your waist, towering over you and looking down at you in awe. He kept it respectful, but you could feel him against your ass, poking through his ripped black jeans. Art was in front of you, your arms around his neck, just inches of space between all of you. The club was dark bar for a strobe light rotating across your faces periodically, so you could hardly see the desire in their eyes, but you could feel it. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of the song and let your head fall back against Patrick's shoulder, swaying your whole body now. Art was pressed into you, his face dipping into your neck. He nearly whimpered— you smelled like caramelized vanilla and a hint of coconut oil. He imagined you lathering your damp body in creams and oils after getting out of the shower, and had to fight an erection from forming directly against you. Meanwhile, Patrick was already half-hard.

All they felt was bliss — Patrick had more of a sense of certainty that the night would end up somewhat like this, but Art doubted they'd even be able to find you. You could sense the way they held back, waiting for you to shut it down or take it an inch further. You paused when you felt your cellphone vibrate in your purse. You pulled away gracefully from Art and Patrick, who stood there dumbly waiting for you to pull them back in. You grinned when you read the text from your friends, who knew of your whereabouts, telling you to pull up to Alicia's apartment for afters, and "bring your little white boys."

You let the boys usher you out of the club, Art with his hand on your waist trailing behind you, and Patrick taking your hand as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

"You smell amazing," Art mentioned the minute the fresh air hit you, re-surging the scent that drove him near ballistic in the club.

You giggled at Art's sudden outburst, and the genuine admiration in his tone,

"Thank you, babe. Now, are y'all good to drive?"

| | |

Alicia's apartment was huge — her dad paid for everything, to say the least. The moment you walked in, Alicia, Nessa and Tiana crowded around you, squealing and ooh-ing and aah-ing over Patrick and Art.

"This your lil shit right here? Go head, then YN," Tiana stuck her tongue out raucously and you shook your head, laughing.

Before you knew it, you were pouring shots of Hennessy down each other's throats, playing a vicious game of Uno, and blasting Me & U by Cassie. Art and Patrick had some settling in to do at first, since they weren't used to being around mostly black girls — the most fun they knew how to have at parties was fist-bumping to dubstep. But they fit right in, and your friends had no trouble making them feel welcome. As the night went on, you lost some of that mysterious enigma, but it didn't make them want you any less.

Art nearly melted beneath you when you stood up above him and poured Ciroc down his throat, holding his chin up with your fresh French tips. Patrick was next, putting on a brave face, unwavering against the screeches and pointing from your friends. He made sure to keep eye contact with you, swallowing boisterously with an "ahh!" sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You grinned and took a swig yourself, then ran to your friends to dance with them, swaying your hips and shaking your ass in a way they hadn't seen just yet. It was like they weren't even there, it was just about you and your friends now.

"Fuck, man," Patrick blinked slow, standing beside Art just feet away from you.

Art ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief at the way your ass moved in your dress,

"I'm gonna be honest, Pat. I don't think either of us could handle that."

For the first time, Patrick nodded, wordlessly agreeing.

It didn't take long for your friends to disperse about the apartment, most of them heading out to the balcony to smoke. You decided to stay behind inside ("For your guests, right?" Nessa had snickered, smirking over at Art and Patrick).

"Are you bored to death yet? You're the only two dudes here," you sauntered over to the two boys, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. All three of you were just a bit more than tipsy, eyes bleared over and heat fanned against your cheeks, drifting about in that pleasantly warm dreamscape.

"Bored? You just baby birded both of us with Ciroc," Art guffawed, and you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him with those low, drunk eyes,

"Yeah, you want more?"

"I want whatever you have to give me," Art replied with quickness, simply entranced by your eyes and that sweet voice. You chuckled, shaking your head.

A smattering of shrieking sounded from outside on the balcony. You scoffed, swiping a joint that Alicia had rolled from off the kitchen table. You started walking down the hall, back faced to them as you said,

"They're so loud. Let's go somewhere quieter."

Art and Patrick both gave each other a glance— they weren't sure if the night would ever actually come to this, but still they didn't quite know what to expect. All they knew was that whether or not either of them could "pull" you, you were the one in charge. Your hips swung more freely from side to side as you walked loosened by the Henny and Ciroc concoctions of the night. Art and Patrick's eyes were like pendulums following your hips.

You turned into the guest bedroom, plopping down onto the bed.

"Close the door," you gestured to Art. Heart pounding, he closed it behind him.

Art and Patrick stood stupidly in front of you. You shook your head at them, laughing quietly,

"Are y'all gonna sit?"

They might as well have tripped over themselves zooming to sit next to you on the bed, one on either side of you. You had the whole world in your hands. It was silent bar for the muffled R&B music from outside. For boys who were so flirtatious, they were awfully quiet now. You shifted to place your legs underneath you, sitting on your knees, your dress riding up your thighs just so. If they looked behind you, they'd see your ass poking out a bit too.

"So. Who's idea was it, hmm?" you hummed. "I mean, you must've wanted to come find me. I'm impressed."

You lit the joint, pressing it to your lips.

"Saw your Myspace post. Thought we'd keep you company," Patrick admitted, coolly as ever, though you saw the bulge forming in his jeans, saw the way his eyes drifted down to your lips around the joint.

You tossed your head back to exhale, giggling up at the ceiling and covering your mouth with your hand.

"You thought you'd keep me company. Y'all are too good."

You passed the joint over to Art, who took a drag and exhaled while keeping it perched in the corner of his mouth, voice half-muffled as he continued,

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, that's all."

"Yeah," Patrick took the joint from Art, doing the same. "Since you don't have a boyfriend or anything."

This time, Patrick lifted the joint up to your lips for you. You leaned into it, slowly wrapping your lips around it and sucking for just a second longer than you usually would, never breaking eye contact while Patrick's smirk grew wider and wider with each passing second. You blew the smoke out and it fanned against his face.

"And how would you two know if I don't have a boyfriend?"

Art sniffed, humored, as you passed the joint to him. It was starting to hit now — a haze rose up just so slightly in the air. You relaxed into it, feeling emboldened.

"Don't think we'd be here if you did," Art shot back.

You snaked forward, taking the joint from Art's lips and putting it to your own. He let out a sharp breath at the casual dominance such an action exuded. Your face was just inches away from his— you didn't know if it was the weed, or how turned on you were after exercising the utmost self-control for the better part of the night, but you noticed that his eyes had such a gleaming strike of blue in them.

"Think you got me, is that it?" you questioned, so close to Art that if you inched any further, your nose would brush against his. He swallowed, unsure of whether he should be turned on or scared, but either way, his pants were getting tighter. Your voice was so tantalizingly quiet as if you were sharing a secret just for him and Patrick. You huffed out a humored breath. "I'm not gonna fuck you, you know."

The way you were looking at him begged to differ. You felt the strap of your dress slide down ever so gently over your left shoulder. Before you could push it up, Patrick's hand, strong and firm, was grazing against your shoulder, pushing your dress strap up. You let your gaze on Art linger for just a moment longer before you turned to Patrick, smirking. You handed him the joint, which had gone out. He placed it on the bed beside him. You were leaning in, an unmistakably seductive twinkle in your eyes as you got even closer to Patrick, murmuring under your breath,

"'M not gonna fuck you either."

“Not gonna fuck me?” Patrick smirked, looking from your hazey eyes to your lips. You pressed your lips into his, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hummed your response into his mouth,

“Mm-mm.”

A slight breath escaped Patrick, keeping his mouth open so you could slip your tongue against his. Patrick kissed you hard and slow, his hands immediately wrapping around your back as you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. You could feel how much he’d been wanting this by the way his tongue curved effortlessly against yours and his grip on your hips got stronger. He kissed the way he talked. Rough and hard, but with effortless ease, like he knew exactly what you liked. Maybe it was his confidence that made the kiss so good, his lips locked in perfectly with yours. You reached behind, pulling Art in as you simultaneously pushed Patrick down so his back was against the mattress. 

You pulled away from Patrick and in one fluid motion turned your head to kiss him, letting your hand wrap against his neck and run up through his hair. Patrick, who was watching from the pillow, groaned and let his head fall against the pillow. Art kissed you needily, but gentler than Patrick. He kissed you like he was parched and your lips were a fountain of water found in a barren land— like he needed to explore more. As you kissed Art, you felt Patrick’s hands kneading your ass, and you moaned — which made them both moan. It took everything in Patrick not to just lift your dress over your ass. But you must have been reading his mind because you wiggled your dress over your ass so it was finally exposed. 

“That’s it,” Patrick groaned in approval, his hands finding new purchase against your bare skin, squeezing your ass with a tender grip.

Your kiss with Art grew sloppier, spit threatening to spill out from the side of your mouth as Art pressed himself against you. You let your hand wander down to his black jeans and gripped the hard bulge that was poking out, running your hand up and down it. Patrick, not one to be left behind, took the liberty of lifting your dress a little higher so he could see the black, lacy panties you wore. He let out a low whistle, his firm on your hips grew firmer, keeping them in place as he ground his up into you, rolling up directly against your clit through your underwear. You gasped when you felt how big Patrick was, pulling away from Art to look down at the sight of Patrick’s hips snapping slowly into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head gently to the side so Art could press his lips against your neck. 

Patrick chuckled, but he was unable to hold back the groan that lodged in his throat. He could feel your clit pulsing through your underwear. 

“Take it off, baby,” you gestured down to Art, who scrambled to take your dress off, throwing it carelessly to the side once it was over your head. Both the boys nearly busted on the spot, because instead of being greeted with a black, lacy bra, your tits simply tumbled out of your dress, perfectly plump and brown and sitting pretty. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick groaned at the sight of your tits above him. He sat up immediately, attaching his mouth immediately to your tits. Art, a whimpering mess by this point, followed quickly, his lips wrapping around your stiff, brown nipple. They both sucked on your tits lasciviously, reserving one for each of them. The lewd sounds of their tongues sucking your plush skin as their hands fondled and squeezed you filled the room. Art was gentle, shifting from reaching a hand underneath your tit and cupping you softly to circling a gentle finger around your nipple. Patrick was more direct, grabbing you with closed hands. 

If you weren’t so turned on, you would honestly giggle at the sight— these two boys who’d been fiending for you for so long, showing you just how long they’d been waiting for this very thing. It was a wonder — the school’s prestigious tennis players who attended every frat party and had enough money to be set for life (Patrick at least), reduced to a melting puddle beneath you. At your beck and call, your mercy, even as the grind of Patrick’s dick against your clit made you soak through the panties. 

You looked down at them with a cunning smile playing on your lips, cupping both their chins softly,

“You’ve been wanting this real bad, haven’t you?”

Two pairs of needy, blissed-out eyes looked up at you immediately, their heads nodding insistently as they moaned around your nipples. You chuckled, your laugh ringing like bells in their ears. You tasted so divine and they hadn’t even tasted you where it really counts. Art decides he wants to get a head start. You felt his hand, his fingers long and spindly, travel down your body, past your soft stomach and down your thigh, until it looped back up to the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the stretchy fabric until he let it snap against your waist. 

He pulled away, his lips warm and wet against your ear as he whispered,

“Can I?” 

You bit down on your lip and nodded, gazing at him as he let his hand travel back down until it crept into your panties, never breaking eye contact even as he dipped two fingers against your soaked slit. You trembled at his touch and he smirked, cocking his head gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you on his fingers.

“She tastes so good, Pat, you gotta try,” Art said, leaning down — Patrick, dazed, lifted his head and looked up at Art with glazed-over eyes.

You watched, rendered speechless for the first time that night as Art dipped his fingers back just slightly against you again, and placed them at Patrick’s wanting lips. Patrick sucked the taste of you off Art’s fingers like it was nothing, like he’d done it before and would do it a thousand times more. The sight of him, lifting his head up to meet Art’s fingers, made you stir above him. 

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Patrick practically moaned, his lips hovering at Art’s fingers. He wasn’t even looking at you, still holding Art’s gaze as he dipped his hand into your panties and prodded at your slit, the pad of his finger tapping against all the arousal that’s gathered there, making wet sounds like fat raindrops collecting in a puddle. “She’s so wet already, shit.” He held Art’s gaze for a moment longer before he turned to you. 

“Can we taste you?” Art asked, his voice soft and lilted. 

You lifted yourself off of Patrick’s lap and kneeled between the two of them, taking their shirts off one by one. Art went to take off his cap, You embraced Art in a kiss first, then Patrick, until it was lost on you which was which— it was all a blur, mouths sloppily entangled and meeting in the middle, kissing each other all at once and you were certain Art and Patrick’s lips met more than a few times. Somewhere in the middle, they had pushed you back against the mattress. You whined as their lips suctioned against your body, down down down until they stopped between your thighs.

You couldn’t see whose lips were on you first, but you were sure it was Patrick, the way he dove right in without hesitation and started sucking expertly at your clit. You cried out, your back arching slightly off the bed at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the contact. You saw Patrick’s tuft of black curls right in between your thighs, and Art’s golden-orange locks just beside him, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs, his hand massaging the plush skin there too. 

Patrick moaned from in between your legs, sending vibrations through your core and up your chest. You relaxed into his touch, pushing his head in and burying your fingers in his curls. He made sure to drag his tongue along every inch of you, pointing it into your slit and thrusting it into you, and flattening his whole tongue against you as he gave kitten licks to your pussy.

His grecian nose poked deliciously against your clit and he used it to his advantage, bobbing his head up and down each time you moaned at the point of contact. He sucked your clit gently with his lips, toyed at your slit with his finger and glanced up at you to gauge your reaction. The moan that fell from your lips as you locked eyes with him from between your legs was almost pornographic, and enough for him to slide one thick finger inside of you. 

You were writhing above him and Art, moaning ever so softly. Your tits were splayed perfectly against your chest and your face was constantly contorted in the sweetest expressions. They’d both imagined you like this, mouth open and eyes rolling back into your head, trapped in bliss. Then another finger, fucking into you deep and slow as he continued lapping up all your arousal, all while Art kissed your thighs with increasing hunger, his once soft kisses becoming wet and crazed. 

“Fuck,” Patrick pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with spit and your arousal. “Art, taste her pussy. Want you to feel what I did to her.”

Art whimpered and assumed position immediately. 

“Wait,” you said, shifting and turning yourself around so you were on your knees, your pussy pulsing right in front of Art’s face while Patrick pulled down his shorts and boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and starting to tug slowly, groaning under his breath. Meanwhile, Art’s eyebrows rose up so far he thought they’d get stuck there, his mouth dropping slightly at the sight of your pussy throbbing around nothing, your folds dripping with a mixture of your own arousal and Patrick’s spit. 

You placed your head on the pillow, craning your neck to look back at the two boys. You liked the juxtaposition that was happening — the two of them in full control of your pleasure, while you were granting them the only thing they’d been thinking of for weeks now.

“Oh fuck,” Art whispered to himself, and Patrick chuckled darkly, squeezing the base of his cock. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but their faces in this moment were seared in your mind permanently – Art’s gaze of pure amazement, and Patrick’s wicked smirk snaking across his entire face, glaring down at your pussy. It was enough to make a shiver run down your spine, how readily they consumed you — the feeling of being wanted wasn’t new to you, but with them, it was just… different.  

“Her pussy looks so pretty after it’s been ate, doesn’t it?” Patrick noted to Art, who nodded with a broken whimper before shoving his face into your pussy, his button nose dancing against your clit as he put his tongue to work. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping down against the pillow. Art might have been gentler, but that did not mean worse by any means.

If anything, he was passionate, noting every slight movement and sound you made and following in your stead. His tongue lappd against your clit, pleasure climbing up your spine. The new angle had you struggling to keep your legs up, but Patrick was sure to keep you in check.

“This is what you wanted right?” he proclaimed, one hand on your thigh to hold you steady, the other still stroking his cock, a bit faster now. A guttural moan surged from your throat as you nodded weakly. “Yeah? So take it. Take Art’s tongue in your pussy, fuck.”

Patrick looked down, his mouth hanging open as he watched the way Art slurped away. He detached his lips only to slide a finger in, kissing you gently as he fucked his finger into you, slow and deep and relishing the way you stretched over his finger. 

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, talking to your pussy like you and him were the only two in the room. He slipped another finger inside you, which made you cry out, pussy throbbing around his fingers. “There you go, squeeze my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, delirious. Art was rutting against the bed now, chasing his high along with you, and Patrick’s hand was working overtime on his cock, spreaidng the precum leaking from his tip along the shaft. His hand reached up to smack your ass, groaning at the way it reveberated beneath his touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Inadvertently, you started to catch the rhythm of Art’s fingers, throwing your hips back against his fingers and his face. The sight of your ass practically covering Art’s face was almost too much for Patrick to handle — he actually glanced away for a second, hoping he could hold off on his swift-approaching orgasm. 

“Yeah, fuck back onto my face, I want you to use me,” Art moaned, muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head. 

You weren’t sure when it all happened, you just knew that you were moaning both their names as you’re sent over the edge, Patrick and Art deftly following — Patrick in his hands, Art in his jeans, hips stuttering against the bed. You squeezed around Art's fingers as you dripped down onto the bed, soaking Art's tongue and chin. It took a while for all of you to gain some semblance of reality, pushing past the haze of pleasure and smoke and bitter alcohol that you were floating in. 

“Did you come in your jeans?” Patrick’s voice cut through the foggy silence, and Art slapped his chest. 

“Shut up, look what you did to the sheets.”

You were lying on your back, gazing up at the two boys with a sated grin, resting your hands on your stomach. 

“Aren’t you glad we found you?” Patrick teased. 

You didn’t have to answer, he already knew.

i think i’m gonna have a part two for this you guys have no idea how much i was debating whether or not they should fuck in this but i feel like reader is the type to make them wait…  plus it would've actually been a novel if i added that and i wanted to get this out cuz i don't wanna keep y'all waiting!! so when they fuck they'll fuck NYASTY.

[joannasteez]

fall, for me

pairing: roman reigns x black reader

warnings: its smut written at two am, i was listening to pink floyd and was feeling a yearning vibe, sometimes you just want someone to be obsessed with you and vice versa yknow?

word count: 1k

could it be that you were falling, this fast slipping separation, where the earth moves, your feet staggering, the ground cleaving till the drop takes you. and the air here pulls from the lungs, draws up quick and terrible. the heat of your skin building till the fire from the friction of the air leaves you to burn. no, falling is easier than this, falling is simple, falling is old theory come to life. gravity and mass and so on and so forth. but this thing, this sweet aching in your chest, that which you cannot see, but feel all the same, is something else entirely, and to say that you were falling for him... 

that you were crashing with abandon for him...

breathless and hot and desperate...

his tongue tasted like everything, well like you and nothing much else really, but the feel of him, the slip of it through your lips, wet and lingering, controlling. it was everything. like when the sun breaks from off the horizon, a slow, sure, rise, burning into that rolling in of the dawn a warming sort of majesty. and your fingers, slipping through his hair till they took to the roots, pain turned pleasure pulsing in his skin as you pulled and formed to him. roughing into him things already understood, that did not have to be explained with great words and phrasings. he could simply feel the scorching in your skin, and know that you were his. that the clinging to him was not in vain. 

but you'll say it anyways. speak softly in your delirium. as his hips make no rush to slip into yours, but steady and exacting all the same. cock hard and heavy as it takes to the softness of you. your mouth parting from his, hesitantly so, growing small beneath him, beneath the weight of the ache in your chest.  

"would it be too much to-", your lips chasing the curve of his, each breath wanting and scared and needy. "to much to say that i-..."

but then the air about your words breaks, flattening to nothing as his hips dig in, taking purchase deeper. and you pull to take him, wet and hot and ill-controlled, moaning desperate and mindless. 

"say what?" 

and your nails nearly split into his back, hissing in time with your own pleasures and your pains, thighs burning as they spread wide, the muscles pulling, tired but working still to please the build of him. and you try, even in your failures to speak, to muster feelings into words, for an expression, even if broken, to say the burdening things he already knows. but everything falters, shatters to bits as you tremble beneath him, whimpering pretty nonsense. pleasepleaseplease, before the inevitable gratitude, thankyouthankyouthankyou, light like a feather, so good and so reverential and so needy. so weak and willing. 

"say it", he urges. feens to feel the slight of the words beneath his skin. like a cutting into the veins. a rushing in his blood. as you pulse and shake and curse. 

"'m a little...", a gasp and then a beat. gathering slowly the words despite the rocking in his hips. the way his hard body grinds and slips at your soft tender skin, at the swollen throb of your clit. and he can taste you still on his tongue, feel the slow sweet drip of arousal, patient in the way it'd met him, as if he'd been graced with something both beautiful and rare, only meant for the one worthy enough to receive it. and he'd taken it well, pushed his tongue in wet till he couldn't anymore, his face buried as he sought hard to please you. lips suckling till they released, teeth hissing, appetite greedy. sofuckingpretty, he'd moaned, rushed, lavishing your slit, his thumb caressing the wet pearl of your clit again, dazed in his own amazements. and the memory forced him to take you harder, to maybe abandon his methods, his steadiness, his temperament. maybe he'd just break you, knock you loose to form you back together again. maybe he'd- "...'m a little obsessed with you", you laugh amidst a moan. amidst the wet stroke he takes to your pussy. "...i think". 

"you think?", like mocking. his lips curving amused. it seemed to be a challenge, a call to action. but he would settle it ruthlessly, so that there was neither doubt nor hesitation. he would make up your mind, if you, amidst the delirium, could not yourself. "just a little bit?"

"...Mhmm...", feeling the twist and the burden of the ache. the slow to subside burning that only leads to some unrestrained bliss. "...fuck...maybe-maybe a lot", your body shivering as he shifts, thick fingers pushing into the bend of your knees to fold you in half, his own knees screwing into the bed as your lower lips spread further, splitting wet and messy to stretch perfect for him. and here, vulnerable to him like this, he takes you to the hilt with less consideration. 

"it ain't no maybes for me sweetheart", his hips rutting as he goes about fucking you with the deftness of a brute. his tongue pulling to lick over his lips quick as his eyes bare down on the beauty of you, fingers combing against the fall of his hair, his chest rising and falling with every breath, damp and red with heat, with lust and the purity of other things. and he grunts, rushes to chase the soft pull of you, pussy a soaked mess as it disgraces the sheets, tight and greedy as it works to keep him close. throbbing crazily to feel the fullness of him till it seemed impossible. 

and of course sooner or later, you'd have him at his knees, again, whether literal or metaphorical it did not matter, but if need be, he'd be the proof, of old theory's come to life. of mass and of gravity. he'd allow again, over and over like he does now, that fast slipping separation, where the earth moves from beneath his feet. he'd fall for you. 

"i can't live without you".